„  But  go  now  :  I  forgive  you.    After  this  it  is  doubtless  better  that  we  shonlrt 
part."  P.  262 


m«s7^n  wt"  ^l  '^^  '''"  of  the  Wild  Cat,"  said  he,  "and  the  ^hite  Eagle 
Trow  the  rocks."'        ''*'"*'"  '^°  ""'  ^^  "'''^^  ^°°"«^'  ^^  '"^^  ^''  ^"""^  "'''' 


'-ft 


CAMP   FIEES 


THE    RED    MEN: 


%  pajih'fb  fears  %. 

BY  Jf  R.^RTON. 


A  tale  of  love  and  arms, 
Of  wild-wood  sights  and  flowers,  and  forest  men, 
Where  white  plumes  nod  to  red,  and  noble  hearts 
Beat  In  bronze  breasts  as  freely  as  in  pearl. 

High  and  low  are  of  one  blood — we  are  all  brothers. 


ILLU8TBA.TED    BT   WALOUTT. 

-  NEW  YOEK: 

DERBY   k  JACKSON,   119   NASSAU   STREET. 

CINCINNATI : — ^H.   W.   DERBY  &  CO. 
1857. 


•:/:  V 


XNTJiBED,    A.CCOBDINa    TO    ACT    OF    CONGRESS,   IN   THE   TEAR    1855,   BT 

J.    0.    DERBY 


IH    THE    CLIRK:  S    OFFICE    OF   THE    DTSTRICT    COURT    OF    THE    UNITED    8TAT¥t 
FOR    THE    SOUTHERN    DISTRICT    OF    NEW   YORK 


DAV1E8   AND   E0BEET8,   STEREOTYPBKS, 

201  William  Street,  N.  Y. 


PREFACE. 


The  writer  of  this  liistory  is  aware  that  the 
critics  are  prone  to  smile  at  all  attempts  at  confi- 
dences between  an  author  and  the  public.  Still, 
in  the  present  instance,  he  is  disposed  for  a  very- 
brief  period  to  take  his  stand  at  the  confessional. 
He  is  frank  to  say  that  his  work  is  not  what  he 
would  endeavor  to  make  it,  were  plot  and  detail 
now  for  the  first  to  be  determined.  A  consider- 
able time  has  elapsed  since  it  was  written — in 
truth,  it  has  been  held  in  reserve  much  more  than 
the  period  prescribed  by  the  discreet  Horace :  but 
notwithstanding  the  space  allotted  to  ripening, 
and  a  very  thorough  revision,  the  broad  features 
of  the  original  cast  were  found  too  deeply  set  to 
admit  of  material  change.  He  would  now,  were  it 
practicable,  modify  some  of  the  incidents — render 
them  less  vivid  in  color  as  well  as  more  sober  in 
character — and  he  would  also,  in  some  cases,  am- 
plify and  extend  them,  even  at  the  risk  of  win- 

ivi209383 


IV  PREFACE. 


nowing  some  favorite  portions  quite  away ;  for  it 
may  be  charged,  with  a  show  of  reason,  that  the  * 
events  occasionally  crowd  very  closely  on  each 
other's  heels.  In  short,  were  he  to  write  again, 
with  an  equal  freedom  of  choice  as  to  subject  and 
action,  he  would  select  a  different  field,  and  court ; 
invention  and  adventure  less,  and  quiet  more ; 
for  the  storm  of  passion  and  the  blast  of  the 
trumpet  are  not  so  much  to  his  taste  now  as  they 
were  once. 

But,  after  all,  he  is  by  no  means  certain  that 
the  public  would  be  well  pleased  with  the  change. 
The  book  contains  his  early  fresh  thoughts,  fan- 
cies, and  feelings,  frankly  spoken  ;  and  will  ap- 
peal strongly  to  the  buoyant  and  more  honest  side 
of  life ;  and  so,  consoling  himself  with  the  belief 
that  it  is  defaced  by  no  unworthy  sentiment,  and 
^  that  it  presents  in  the  main  a  fair  picture  of  the 
times  as  they  existed  among  us  a  century  ago, 
when  the  Georges  of  England  were  our  kings, 
and  the  Confederacy  of  the  Six  Nations  of  Eed 
Men  our  allies,  he  is  content  to  submit  it  into  the 
hands  of  the  publishers  as  it  is. 

BB.ooKLYJsr,  August^  1866. 


CONTENTS 


OHAPTKB  ^  rAOK 

I. A    HUNDRED   YEARS   AGO 9 

II. THE    READER     IS     UNEXPECTEDLY    INTRODUCED    TO     THE 

HERO    OF   THE    STORY 14 

ni. — THE  YOUTH  S(f  OPPORTUNELY  DISCOVERED,  APPROVES 
HIMSELF  A  LAD  OF  PARTS,  WITH  SOMETHING  OF  THE 
FEELINGS    OF    A    MAN 20 

IV. — OUR    HERO   IS    RAPIDLY   LED   ON   INTO    THE    REALITIES    OB 

LIFE    AND    MANHOOD    25 

V. THE   BARNEGAT   HOTEL.       A   LANDSCAPE    BY    THE    SEA...       81 

VI. — HANDIWORK  OF  THE  OCEAN.  A  SHIPWRECK  THROWS 
SOME  NOBLE  FOREIGNERS  INTO  THE  READER'S  SO- 
CIETY.      THE    LADY    VIOLA 36 

VII. — THE   WRECKERS.       A  NIGHT   FIRE   UPON   THE    DEEP 47 

VIII. — THE    SPANIARDS   IN    NEW   YORK .• 53 

IX. ^WARWICK   FINDING   HIMSELF   IN    LOVE,    SEEKS    RELIEF   IN 

POETRY - 67 

X. — THE   BALL  AT   GOVERNOR    CLINTON*S 64 

XI. — A  NIGHT  ADVENTURE  ON  THE  BATTERY.  CHARACTER- 
ISTIC   PASSAGE    WITH   AN    EDITOR 74 

XII. — MICHAEL   JOHNSON.        LOVE-MAKING    IN   HIGH    LIFE,         A 

FRIENDLY    WARNING 79 

Xni. — MAJOR   VAN   quirk's   PROSPECTIVE   DUEL 88 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTKR  PAOM 

XIV. — THE    SPANISH   PARTY   SUDDENLY   QUIT   THE   CITY.       THE 

SCENERY    OF    THE    HUDSON 100 

/ 
XV. — LOOKING    TOWARD    THE    WILDERNESS.      A   CLOUD   AND   A       , 

SEPARATION 106 

XVI. — THE    SPANISH    CAVALCADE.      SIGHTS   AND   SOUNDS  OF   AN 

AMERICAN    WOOD 111 

XVn. — THE  SIX  NATIONS  OF  THE  RED  MEN.  DON  FERDINAND 
MAKES  AN  UNEXPECTED  ACQUAINTANCE.  THE  SPAN- 
ISH  CAMP - 120 

XVIII. A  WILD- WOOD  HUNT.  FASHIONABLE  AND  ARTISTIC  REN- 
COUNTER   BETWEEN    TWO    MONARCHS    OF    THE    FOREST   127 

XIX. — A  CAMP-FIRE  YARN,  EMBRACING  SOME  INCIDENTS 
NECESSARY  TO  BE  KNOWN  IN  THE  EARLY  LIFE  OF 
JOHNSON 139 

XX. AN  ALARM.     CONFIDENTIAL  COMMUNICATIONS  BETWEEN 

A  FATHER   AND   DAUGHTER 153 

XXI. — DON  MANUEL    TORRILLO 163 

XXII. — WARWICK  AGAIN.  HE  TAKES  A  ROMANTIC  RESOLU- 
TION, AND  PERFORMS  A  TRYING  ACT  OF  BROTHERLY 
LOVE 171 

XXIII. A   REVERSE.      THE   WATCH-FIRE   AND   THE   WAR-DANCE. 

THE   INDIAN   WIDOW 178 

XXIV. — THE   ATTACK 188 

XXV. THE   repulse;    and   DEATH   OF   ROLLINGBOW 199 

XXVI. — THE   PRISONER^  ^R.  OQUETOS   AND    THE  WOUNDED 207 

XXVn. — CONVALESCENCE.      SINGULAR  DISPLAY  OF  AFFECTION  ON 

THE   PART  OF  A  NATIVE 213 

XXVin. — A    MYSTERY    EXPLAINED.       THE    SUSQUEHANNA.       THE 

3END   MOUNTAIN   ANJ>  THE    NEW   CAMP 221 


'        -  ^  CONTENTS.  Vii 

OBAPTKB  PAOa 

XXIX. ANOTHER    CAMP-FIRE    TALE,   WHICH   WILL    BE    FOUND 

IN    THE    END   TO    BE    INTIMATELY   CONNECTED  WITH 
OUR    STORY 229 

XXX. — STARLIGHT   REVERIES   AND   SUNLIGHT  DREAMS 236 

XXXI. THE    RIVALS.      A   HAND   TO   HAND   RECKONING 241 

XXXII#— A   GHOSTLY   BRIDEGROOM.       TUMULT   IN   THE   CAMP  .-  250 

XXXIH. A  PARTING.      TO   THE   WOODS   AGAIN 257 

XXXIV. — THE    FADING    LILY.       THE     ISLAND    AND    ITS    SYLVAN 

HAUNTS 264 

XXXV. ^THE    MYSTERY   AND   BEAUTY  OF  LOGICAL   ARGUMENT- 
ATION.     A  SURPRISE , 269 

XXXVI. TRADITIONS   OF   THE    BEND    MOUNTAIN.      AN    EPISODE, 

ON    WHICH    HINGES    THE    FINAL    DENOUEMENT    OF 
THE   PLOT.      JOACHIM   BLAZO   AND   HIS   DREAMS  .  . .    277 

XXXVII. JOACHIM,    IN    DESPAIR,    INTRODUCES    HIS    NECK    TO    A 

NOOSE.        HIS     WISH     GRATIFIED     AND     HIS    DREAM 
FINISHED 285 

XXXVni. MIDNIGHT  CONJURATIONS 292 

XXXIX. — A   GRAND  CATASTROPHE 300 

XL. — THE   COURT  OF  INQUIRY.      LAST  HOURS  AND  CONFES- 
SION OF  A  VILLAIN.      TO   ARMS ! 307 

XLI. — OUR    HERO   IN   HIS    EYRIE   ON   THE    HILLS.        A  YOUNG 

man's  REVERIES  AMID  THE  SOLITUDES  OF  NATURE.  -317 

XLII."  -DESPONDENCY.      AN  ANTIQUE  LETTER.     INACTION  AND 

ITS   CONSEQUENCES 322 

XXni.-  POLITICAL  POSITION  OF  THE  SIX  NATIONS.       THE  TRIAL. 

OLD  CHARACTERS  IN  A  NEW  DRESS 330 

ZLIV. — THE  FATHER   AND   SON.      CLOUDS   BREAKING  AND  THE 

PRIZE    IN   VIEW 342 


^111  CON-TEKTS. 

«)HArTKB  PAoa 

X1.V. — AN-    ADOPTION.        INDIAN    FESTIVITIES AN    ABORIGINAIi 

SUPPER     AND     BALL.        COXCOMBS     AND     COQUETTES 
THE    WAR    PARTY 348 

XliVI. — INDIAN     LOVE     OF     COUNTRY.        THE     MOHAWK.        THE 

MARCH 358 

XLVII. — THE    SCOtTT.      PLAN   OF  THE   ATTACK 369 

« 
XLVIII. — ^A  COUP-DE-MAIN.      POSTURE  OF  AFFAIRS  AT  THE   SPAN- 
ISH  CAMP 378 

XLIX. — DOCTOR    OQUETOS    EXALTED.        A    NOONDAY     ESdALADE. 

THE   PRIZE   TO   THE   VICTOR 389 

I. —CONCLUSION , 400 


.>      >...',     y'    '.■ 


CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  IM: 


OR, 


A  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO. 


ajter  §nt. 


UNDRED    YEAES    AGO 


Stop  I  for  thy  tread  Is  on  an  Empire's  dusjt." 


AS  the  eye  rests  on  the  map  of  the  American  Republic,  and 
notes  the  innumerable  cities,  towns,  and  villages  wMch 
dot  its  surface,  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that  but  little  more 
than  two  centuries  have  elapsed  since  this  whole  region  was 
a  vast  and  scarcely  broken  wilderness.  Especially  to  him 
who  has  learned  from  observation  something  of  the  real  grow^th 
and  civilization,  the  resources  and  the  power,  of  this  common- 
wealth ;  who  is  not  only  familiar  with  the  Atlantic  slope,  but 
has  penetrated  the  vast  interior,  stopping  not  east  of  the  Al- 
leghanies,  nor  yet  east  of  the  Mississippi ;  who  has  traversed 
the  noble  Hudson,  viewed  our  canals,  flown  over  our  rail- 
roads ;  and,  compassing  the  northern  lakes,  has  descended  the 
father  of  rivers,  pushing  his  way  into  the  interminable  West ; 
literally  led  on,  as  his  steam- ship  cleft  the  waves,  by  a  cloud 
by  day  and  a  pillar  of  ftre  by  night ;  and  who,  ever  as  he  went, 
has  found  an  active  and  intelligent  population,  enjoying  the 

1* 


10  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEIT. 

distinctive  comforts  of  civilized  life,  the  frequent  church, 
school-house,  and  printing-press,  the  bustling  mart  and  the 
luxurious  city,  skirted  by  hills  and  vales  and  prairies  teeming 
with  fruit  and  yellow  grain,  a  thousand  miles  beyond  the  sea- 
board— especially  to  one  who  has  witnessed  all  this,  do  the 
changes  which  so  short  a  period  has  wrought  seem  like  the 
fabled  work  of  enchantment.  The  forest,  as  it  were,  in  a  day 
has  been  turned  into  a  smiling  and  cultivated  landscape — the 
desert  in  a  night  been  made  to  blossom  as  the  rose. 

So  late  as  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  period 
near  which  the  events  narrated  in  these  pages  are  supposed 
to  have  occurred,  but  a  small  portion  of  those  vast  continental 
improvements,  at  which  we  have  glanced,  had  been  effected. 
These  United  States  were  then  colonies  of  the  British  crown  ; 
and  as  yet  no  day-dream  or  vision  of  sleep  had  presented  to 
the  imaginations  of  the  hardy  colonists  a  glimpse  of  the  mag- 
nificent future  which  awaited  them.  New  York  was  at  that 
time  a  bustling  town  of  some  ten  -or  twelve  thousand  inhabit- 
ants ;  and  Boston,  and  Philadelphia — the  city  of  the  meek  and 
philanthropic  Penn — both  of  about  the  same  size  and  preten- 
sions, were  its  active  rivals.  These  three  towns  formed  the 
strongholds  of  that  portion  of  North  America  which  owed  al- 
legiance to  Great  Britain.  The  French  held  the  Canadas  and 
Louisiana,  and  bore  themselves  proudly  in  their  fortresses  of 
Quebec  and  Montreal,  and  on  the  bosoms  of  their  boasted 
rivers  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Mississippi.  The  Spanish 
possessed  Florida.  The  Atlantic  and  Gulf  coasts,  it  is-  true, 
from  Acadia  to  the  Bayous  of  Louisiana,  were  dotted  with  fre- 
quent settlements,  many  of  them  in  a  prosperous  condition, 
and  gradually  reaching  inland.  The  good  Dutch  city  of  Al- 
bany was  also  at  that  period  a  place  of  note,  and  sheltered 
under  its  motherly  wings  several  contiguous  hamlets  ;  but 
these,  in  1750,  were  frontier  points,  marking  the  extreme 
bounds  of  civilized  life  ;  while  all  beyond,  save  an  occasional 


A  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO.  H 

Indian  trading  post,  or  military  fastness,  like  Niagara  or  Du 
Quesne,  still  retained  its  original  features  ;  and  unmarred  by 
the  cunning  devices  of  Europeans,  was  yet  under  the  joint  do- 
minion of  the  beasts  and  the  savages.  I'he  entire  white  popu- 
lation at  this  period,  of  British,  French,  and  that  part  of 
Spanish  America  which  has  been  named,  did  not  probably 
exceed  a  million  and  a  quarter ;  or  that  of  one  of  the  second- 
class  States  of  our  present  Republic. 

A  hundred  years  ago  the  Indian  tribes  bordering  on  the 
Atlantic  formed  an  important  element  in  the  history  of  the 
times.  The  Six  Nations,  in  particular,  w^ere  then  in  the  glory 
of  their  strength,  and  powerful  enough  to  make  themselves 
both  feared  and  respected.  Proud,  eloquent,  and  warlike,  they 
furnished  a  favorable  specimen  of  the  original  man  of  America ; 

"and  were  alike  the  terror  of  their  savage  neighbors,  and  the 
whites  who  provoked  their  hostility.  England  and  France, 
in  their  struggle  for  the  mastery  in  the  New  World,  found  it 
necessary  to  court  the  friendship  and  alliance  of  this  aboriginal 
confederacy  ;  and  by  their  constant  intrigues  involved  it  in  a 
succession  of  domestic  broils,  and  exterminating  wars  with 
neighboring  tribes,  which,  in  connection  with  the  civilized 
vices  introduced  among  them,  and  the  destruction  of  their 
hunting-grounds,  induced  a  rapid  decrease  of  their  numbers 
and  decay  of  their  power.  It  is  a  melancholy  reflection  that 
like  causes  seem  still  operating  with  fatal  certainty  toward  the 
ultimate  total  extinction  of  the  Indian  name  on  the  American 
Continent.  "  " 

At  the  present  period  scarcely  a  vestige  of  the  Six  Nations 

Remains.  The  inhabitant  of  central  New  York,  as  he  surveys 
his  luxuriant  domain,  or  moves  among  the  bustle  and  display 
of  some  new-made  city,  a  Utica,  a  Rochester,  a  Buffalo, 
sprung  into  being  in  a  night,  like  the  magic  palace  of  Aladdin, 
stops  not  to  think  that  within  the  memory  of  some  centennial 
father  still  alive,  this  garden  of  the  State  was  the  center  of  a 


12  CA3IP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

powerful  Indian  commonwealth,  which  had  its  armies  of  brave 
and  noble  warriors,  its  eloquent  orators  and  priests,  its  fre- 
quent villages,  its  orchards,  and  meadows,  and  cultivated  fields, 
and  that  he  holds  his  tenure  by  the  extinction  of  the  council 
fires  of  a  broad  empire.  Little  do  any  of  us  stop  to  consider, 
as  curiosity  induces  a  hasty  examination  of  the  frequent 
mounds  with  which  many  parts  of  our  country  are  dotted,  or 
as  the  plowshare  turns  up  some  moldering  relic  of  humanity, 
that  we  are  disturbing  the  boaes  of  the  old  lords  of  the  soil, 
whose  destruction  from  among  men  has  given  place,  and 
wealth,  and  importance  to  this  portion  of  the  great  American 
Republic. 

Time  levels  and  again  rebuilds.  Change  is  the  order  of 
nature.  Not  nations  and  people  alone,  but  every  gradation  of 
existence  ;  the  earth,  and  the  seas  and  dry  lands  which  com- 
pose it ;  the  eternal  hills,  and  the  whole  universe,  so  far  as 
human  observation  extends,  are  the  subjects  of  this  mutation. 
Nothing  is  absolved,  save  the  immutable  laws,  which  the  eye 
of  philosophy  has  but  feebly  scanned,  that  doubtless  reduce 
all  changes,  however  incongruous  they  may  appear,  to  a  sys- 
tem of  general  development  and  harmonious  order.  The  old 
world,  or  that  part  of  it  of  which  we  know  any  thing,  so  far 
back  as  the  lamp  of  history  sheds  a  glimmer,  has  ever  been 
altering  like  the  figures  of  a  kaleidoscope,  or  the  shifting  scenes 
of  a  panorama.  It  is  trite  to  speak  of  the  glory  of  the  East, 
but  who  can  cease  to  wonder  at  its  story  ?  Who  can  forget 
that  Egypt  was  once  the  light  of  the  world  ;  that  Belshazzar 
feasted  in  Babylon,  with  its  hundred  brazen  gates  ;  that  Jeru- 
salem was  set  on  a  hill,  and  the  pillars  of  its  Temple  were  of 
brass,  and  the  hinges  of  its  doors  of  pure  gold  ?  Who  caW 
forget  that  strength  cometh  down  from  the  north  ;  and  that  the 
wizard  star  of  empire  ever  moveth  westward  ?  That  mys- 
terious star,  slowly  quitting  Asia,  poured  its  golden  light,  in 
Luccession,  on  Greece,  Rome,  France,  Spain,  and  Britain; 


A  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO.  ^  13 

and  at  last  hath  risen  on  America  ;  where,  with  the  promise 
of  an  unusual  altitude  and  splendor,  it  has  spanned  a  continent 
with  its  rays,  from  the  rock-bound  coast  of  New  England  to 
the  Golden  Gate  of  California.  Here  may  it  rest  for  a  time 
in  its  march  of  destiny. 

America  is  called  young,  but  she  is  old.  The  ancient  sun, 
which  hath  seen  all  parts  of  the  earth  from  the  beginning,  now 
lights  at  least  the  morning  of  the  second  era  of  her  greatness. 
The  existence  of  the  first  is  alone  known  tons  by  vague  tradi- 
tion, and  the  ruins  of  its  cities,  its  temples,  and  its  tombs^ 
over  which  forests,  the  growth  of  centuries,  have  clustered. 
When  these  were  built,  or  when  they  perished ;  by  whom  they 
were  peopled,  or  by  whom  or  what  destroyed,  are  alike  hid- 
den and  unknown.  The  cunning  works  of  the  artisan  meet 
the  eye  ;  but  the  hands  that  wrought  them  are  not  to  be 
found ;  and  the  account  thereof,  if  ever  written,  has  not  come 
down  to  us. 


fiifeajtu  f to0 


THE  HEADER  IS  UNEXPECTEDLY  INTRODUCED  TO  THE  HERO   OF  THE  STORY. 

THE  sun  of  a  soft  autumnal  day,  though  far  in  its  wane,  was 
still  glowing  with  mellow  luster  on  the  frowning  castle 
and  higher  portions  of  the  good  city  of  Quebec,  as  a  military 
officer,  in  the  full  scarlet  uniform  of  England,  emerged  from 
one  of  the  principal  hotels  of  that  place,  known  as  the  Uni- 
corn, to  take  a  birds-eye  view  of  the  town.  -A  female,  hooped 
and  belted,  with  a  hat  and  feather  whose  dimensions  would 
startle  a  modern  belle,  walked  by  his  side,  her  hand  lightly 
resting  on  his  arm,  with  a  step  as  staid  and  military  as  his 
own. 

"  Who  are  they  ?"  was  eagerly  asked  by  the  cuiious  French- 
men who  thronged  the  steps  and  bar-room  of  the  tavern.  The 
host  gravely  shook  his  head ;  but  the  questioners  were  old 
friends  and  customers,  and  very  shortly  thinking  better  of  it, 
he  informed  them,  in  a  confidential  tone,  that  the  strangers 
were  a  British  officer  of  rank,  and  his  sister. 

"  When  did  they  arrive  ?" 

"  This  morning." 

"  In  the  George  the  First,  below  ?*' 

"  Yes." 

A  grave  silence  of  a  minute  or  two  followed,  to  give  time, 
as  would  seem,  for  the  proper  digestion  of  the  important  facts 
elicited  ;  when  one  of  the  loungers  again  addressed  the  land- 
lord :  • 

"  It  is  singular,  Gilbert,  that  a  British  officer  of  rank  should 


TITE  WHITE  INDIAN  BOY.  15 

be  prying  about  his  Majesty's  fortress  oT  Quebec,  and  nobody 
know  either  his  name  or  business. 

"  My  friends,"  returned  the  prudent  Gilbert,  "  you  know 
that  I  can  deny  you  nothing.  I  trust  every  thing  to  your  dis- 
cretion, which  I  have  so  often  tried.  The  gentleman  is 
Colonel  Warwick,  of  the  colony  of  New  York  ;  and  he  is 
here  on  a  very  delicate  mission,  a  question  of  great  importance 
between  the  two  crowns  ;  the  nature  of  which  Fdare  not — 
'pon  my  honor,  you  must  excuse  me — my  life " 

"  Aha  !"  drawled  the  interrogator  :  and  all  present  ex- 
changed significant  glances  with  each  other,  and  with  the  dis- 
creet host  of  the  Unicorn. 

Meanwhile  the  subjects  of  this  dialogue  were  enjoying  a 
delightful  stroll  through  the  town.  The  officer  admired  the 
castle,  and  the  huge  rocks  and  precipitous  ascents  which  give 
strength  to  Quebec  as  a  military  post ;  the  lady,  the  gentler 
sights  ;  whatever  was  novel  or  imposing  in  architecture,  taste- 
ful in  shrubbery  and  grounds  ;  and  the  river  prospect,  and  dis- 
tant hills,  already  variegated  with  those  red  and  yellow  tints 
which,  althouglf  the  first  footprints  of  decay,  by  their  brilliant 
hues  and  contrasts  shut  from  us  the  reflection  that  the  year 
is  old  and  dying,  and  kindly  clothe  our  autumnal  landscapes, 
as  they  approach  the  sleep  of  winter,  in  a  gorgeous  mantle  of 
beauty. 

A  period  of  silent  admiration  was  at  length  interrupted  by 
the  lady. 

"  See  there,  brother  ;  there  are  some  Indians,"  said  she, 
pointing  a  little  in  advance,  where  a  company  of  American 
natives  were  seated  on  the  ground,  smoking  and  talking  with 
high  garrulity. 

"  True,  Betty,"  replied  the  officer  ;  "  but  surely  by  this  time 
Indians  can  be  no  great  matter  of  wonderment  to  you.  We 
see  them  every  day  in  New  York." 

"  Yes,  but  look  at  that  little  fellow,  there,"  continued  the 


16  CAMP  FIBES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

lady,  pointing  with  h*  fingei,  "  how  fair  he  is  !"  We  do  not 
have  white  Indians  with  us,  Charles.  I  wonder  if  it  is  the 
difference  in  the  climate.  See,  he  has  bright  flaxen  hair,  and, 
for  a  marvel,  blue  eyes.  If  he  were  only  washed  and  dress^ 
properly,  he  would  be  a  beautiful  boy,  brother." 

The  subject  of  these  remarks,  a  pale,  slender  lad  of  some 
seven  years  of  age,  was  sitting  a  little  apart  from  his  com- 
panions ;  but  except  the  peculiarities  noted  by  Mistress  War- 
wick, there  was  nothing  to  distinguish  him  from  the  other 
children  of  the  party.  A  blanket  was  loosely  thrown  over  his 
shoulders,  and  beneath  it  was  a  shirt  of  some  cotton  stuff. 
These  two  articles  completed  his  apparel,  his  head  and  feet 
being  entirely  bare.  The  expression  of  his  countenance  was 
intelligent  but-  sad ;  and  as  Colonel  Warwick  and  his  sister 
approached,  he  arose,  with  a  seeming  consciousness  that  he 
had  attracted  their  attention. 

"  This  is  no  Indian  child,"  said  the  Colonel,  addressing  the 
group.     "  Where  did  you  get  him  ?" 

But  none  of  them  understood  English.  The  lad  meanwhile 
appeared  to  be  singularly  affected.  At  the  sound  of  an  En- 
glish voice  he  started,  his  eye  brightened,  the  blood  rushed  in 
a  volume  to  his  pale  face  ;  and  he  sprung  forward  as  though 
to  throw  himself  in  the  Colonel's  arms,  but  ere  the  act  was 
accomplished,  s'hrunk  back  abashed,  and  stood  trembling,  with 
his  tearful  eyes  fastened  on  the  countenance  of  the  officer. 
Colonel  Warwick  was  affected.  He  took  the  child's  hands  in 
his,  and  spoke  to  him  in  tones  of  kindness.  He  could,  how- 
ever, gain  nothing  intelligible  in  return.  The  youth  replied 
in  an  uncouth  aboriginal  dialect,  and  indeed  appeared  to  change 
to  several  different  tongues,  in  the  hope  of  being  understood  ; 
but  all  were  equally  Greek  to  the  kind-hearted  officer. 

The  Colonel  applied  himself  £  gain  to  the  savages,  in 
French  ;  and  this  time  with  better  success.  But  the  inform- 
ation he  was  able  to  gather  from  their  broken  replies  was 


TEE  WHITE  INDIAN  BOY.  17 

meager  in  the  extreme.  They  were  either  ignorant  of  the 
history  of  the  lad,  or  were  determined  to  conceal  it.  They 
were  only  certain  of  one  fact,  and  that  was  that  he  was  of 
English  parentage.  The  further  account  they  gave  was,  in 
substance,  that  some  months  previously,  far  in  the  interior,  by 
the  Great  Lake,  the  youth  was  given  them  by  a  warrior  of 
the  Hurons  ;  and  they  acknowledged  that  one  great  motive  of 
their  present  visit  to  Quebec  was  to  dispose  of  him  for  a  sup- 
ply of  ammunition  and  blankets. 

It  will  surprise  no  one  that  the  hand  of  Colonel  Warwick 
instinctively  sought  his  purse  ;  and  that  he  paid  without  hesi- 
tation the  few  guineas  that  were  claimed  as  a  ransom  for  the 
child.  Mistress  Warwick,  however,  on  comprehending  the 
transaction,  held  up  her  palms  in  horror. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  buy  him,  brother,  are  you  ?  Awful ! 
Who  ever  heard  of  buying  a  Christian  before  ?" 

"  Why,  Betty  !"  returned  the  Colonel ;  "  pray  what  did  you 
pay  for  your  maid.  Sue  ?" 

"  Ah,  there  you  are  hard  on  me,  brother.  But  Snsannah  is 
black  ;  and  every  body  buys  and  sells  black  people." 

"  At  home,  you  mean,  sister.  In  some  parts  of  the  world, 
and  this  it  seems  is  one  of  them,  it  is  customary  to  buy  and 
sell  white  people." 

Taking  the  little  captive,  whose  eyes  sparkled  with  pleas- 
ure, by  the  hand.  Colonel  Warwick  and  his  sister  pursued 
their  ramble. 

"  But  what  in  the  name  of  goodness,  Betty,"  exclaimed  the 
Colonel,  "  can  I  do  with  this  young  savage  ?  He  seems  a  pleasr 
ant  little  fellow  enough." 

"  I  was  just  turning  the  problem  in  my  mind,  brother,"  re- 
plied Mistress  Warwick.  "  If  he  looks  as  well  as  I  think  he 
will,  when  he  is  washed,  and  respectably  clothed,  and  gets 
the  tan  off ;  and  should  prove  to  be  amiable  and  intellectual, 
why  not  keep  him  yourself,  and  make  a  man  of  him  ?     You 


18  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THS   BED  MEN, 

are  now  getting  along  so  far  in  life  without  marriage,  that  I 
very  seriously  doubt  whether  that  interesting  event,  with  you, 
is  ever  destined  to  occur  ;  and  I  can  not  but  think  that  a  child 
in  the  house  would  often  relieve  you  from  ennuf." 

"  ^ight,  Bet,"  said  the  Colonel  with  a  laugh  ;  "  and  in  that 
particular  it  seems  to  me  that  your  prospects  and  mine  are 
very  like  ;  and  as  there  is  small  probability  of  our  ever  being 
troubled  with  children  of  our  own,  suppose  we  jointly  take 
charge  of  this  helpless  creature,  and  in  this  way  pay,  in  part, 
the  debt  we  owe  to  society.  As  you  are  the  head  of  my  bach- 
elor establishment,  it  seems  needful  that  the  act  be  one  of  co- 
partnery." 

"  r  will  think  of  it,"  returned  Mistress  Warwick.  "  We  will 
see  how  he  appears  on  acquaintance.  Our  means,  you  know, 
brother,  are  limited,  and  we  have  needy  relatives  in  England. 
Our  niece  Julia,  on  the  occurrence  of  a  certain  contingency,  is 
very  likely  to  be  thrown  on  our  hands.  Still,  this  poor  little  fel- 
low must  be  cared  for  by  somebody,  and  I  will  not  shrink  from 
my  share  of  the  responsibility.  I  agree  to  your  proposition, 
Charles  ;  we  will  adopt  him,  and  Julia,  too,  should  it  become 
necessary." 

"  Spoken  like  yourself,  Betty,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  We  read 
of  the  widow's  cruse  that  never  run  dry,  which  is  intended  to 
teach  us  that  he  who  has  a  heart  for  charity  shall  not  want 
the  means.     I  doubt  not  we  shall  have  enough." 

"  But  what  shall  we  call  the  youngster  ?"  said  Mistress 
Warwick.  "  I  suppose  he  has  a  name  if  we  could  only  as- 
certain it.  Doubtless  his  real  Christian  name  is  lost  forever ; 
and  he  is  now  known  by  some  heathenish  Indian  word,  which 
would  hardly  answer  to  introduce  into  good  society.  What 
shall  we  call  him,  brother  ?" 

"  Suit  yourself  as  to  a  name,  Betty,"  replied  Colonel  War- 
wick. "  But  stay  :  if  you  think  of  nothing  better,  call  him 
Charles  Warwick,  Junior."       '  ^  . 


TEE  WHITE  INDIAN  BOY,  19 

"  What,  after  yourself?" 

"  Why  not  ?     Where  is  the  objection  ?" 

"  Would  it  be  exactly  proper  ?"  said  Mistress  Warwick,  very 
deliberately.     "  Would  not  suspicious  people  make  remarks?" 

"  Well,  let  them  make  remarks,"  rejoined  the  Colonel,  firmly 
"  I  have  lived  too  long  in  this  fault-finding  world  to  care  very 
particularly  whether  people  make  remarks  or  not,  especially 
when  unconscious  of  any  improper  conduct  to  induce  it.  Here, 
Charles,  you  little  rascal,  look  up  !  Will  you  engage  to  be  a 
good  boy,  and  love  me,  if  I  give  you  my  own  name  ?  No 
doubt,  no  doubt." 

Thus  saying.  Colonel  Warwick  took  his  pitiful  charge  m. 
his  arms,  and  gave  him  a  hearty  embrace  ;  and  unmindful  of 
the  crowd  of  loungers  congregated  about  the  Unicorn,  who 
verily  did  both  stare  and  make  remarks  at  the  singular  exhibi- 
tion, bore  him,  in  a  sort  of  triumnh,  into  the  hotel»  and  to  his 
own  room. 


THE    YOUTH    SO    OPPORTUNELY  DISCOVERED,  APPROVES   HIMSELF    A    LAD    OP 
PARTS,  WITH   SOMETHING   OF  THE   FEELINGS  OF  A  MAN. 

COLONEL  WARWICK  belonged  to  that  large  but  honor- 
able category  of  younger  sons  of  consequential  families, 
who  in  England,  time  out  of  mind,  that  the  representative  of  the 
house  may  be  sustained  with  becoming  revenues  and  dignity, 
have  been  crowded,  with  a  very  slim  provision,  into  the  several 
professions.  He  selected  that  of  arms,  and  had  served  his 
country  at  home  and  abroad,  in  both  Indies,  and  America,  with 
ability  and  success.  Without  the  aid  of  special  favoritism,  he 
had  gradually  risen  from  a  starting-point  sufficiently  obscure 
to  his  present  honorable  position  in  his  Britannic  Majesty's 
service.  With  elevation  of  rank  came  increase  of  emolument, 
so  that,  with  his  unexpensive  habits,  as  age  began  to  appear 
in  the  perspective,  he  had  the  consolation  to  know  that  he  had 
secured  a  moderate  competency  for  his  declining  days.  With 
this,  at  one  time,  he  had  meditated  retiring  from  his  profession, 
and  seeking  the  rewards  of  a  life  of  toil  and  hardship  in  do- 
mestic quiet.  But  then  the  meridian  of  life  was  passed. 
W^hen  he  would  have  married,  he  had  been  prevented  both  by 
his  poverty,  and  the  unsettled  manner  and  uncertain  tenure  of 
the  life  he  led  :  and  now  he  very  justly  doubted  the  propriety 
of  encumbering  himself  with  a  wife,  or  a  wife  with  him. 
Marriage,  he  was  accustomed  to  say,  was  a  thing  that  a  man 
should  get  used  to  in  his  youth,  in  order  to  enjoy  it.  With 
him,  he  could  not  but  think  the  ^  eriod  of  honey  moons  was 


TEE  YOUTH  OF  YOUNG   WARWICK.  21 

passed.  He  could  not  keep  up  with  the  agility  of  a  young 
wife,  who  would  always  be  ahead  of  him  ;  and  to  an  old  ono 
there  were  objections  which  gallantry  forbade  him  to  name  ; 
so  that  he  would  ever  continue  to  subscribe  himself  Charles 
Warwick,  bachelor,  till  death  ;  happy  in  being  honored,  if 
not  caressed. 

Having  formed  a  deliberate  judgment,  he  was  not  the  man 
to  swerve  from  it ;  and  accordingly  proceeded  to  attach  to 
himself  a  maiden  sister,  of  nearly  his  own  age,  and  accepted 
an  easy  berth  in  America.  There,  for  the  last  few  years,  princi- 
pally in  New  York,  life  with  both  had  passed,  if  not  joyfully,  at 
least  quietly,  and  with  few  regrets.  Under  somewhat  of  a 
stiff  exterior,  the  brother  and  sister,  in  reality,  concealed  quali- 
ties which  do  honor  to  our  nature  :  and  if  to  strange  eyes  they 
appeared  stately  and  old-fashioned,  when  one  came  to  know 
them  better,  he  could  not  fail  to  admire  the  affectionate  sim- 
plicity and  purity  of  their  lives.  Their  present  journey  to 
Canada  was  solely  one  of  pleasure,  and  not  a  government  affair, 
as  the  publican  of  the  Unicorn,  for  the  sake  of  creating  won- 
der, and  magnifying  his  own  consequence,  had  so  impudently 
asserted. 

The  morning  subsequent  to  the  events  i\arrated  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter.  Mistress  Warwick  arose,  and  with  all  con- 
venient dispatch  proceeded  to  look  after  her  charge.  She 
found  him  in  the  street  fronting  the  hotel,  the  cap  and  shoes 
which  had  been  prc^^ided  for  him  the  evening  before  laid  aside, 
engaged,  with  bow  and  arrow,  in  a  heroic  attack  on  the  non- 
descript beast  which  bore  himself  so  grimly  upon  the  apex  of 
mine  host's  sign-post. 

"  Charles  !  Charles  !  my  child,"  exclaimed  the  good  matron,^ 
"  what  are  you  about  1  Come  in,  my  dear,  out  of  the  sun  and 
dust." 

The  lad,  without  comprehending  a  word  she  uttered,  threw 
by  his  weapons  and  tripped  toward  her,  his  face  beaming 


22  CAMP  FIRES   OF  THE  RED  MEK 

with  happiness  and  smiles.  He  yielded  himself  to  her  with 
perfect  docility,  and  showed  himself  anxious  and  ready  to 
comprehend  her  wishes  and  obey  them.  She  directed  him  by 
signs,  and  he  resumed  his  cap  and  shoes  ;  and  on  being  made 
to  understand  that  he  should  perform  an  ablution,  he  bounded 
away  to  the  river,  which  was  near  by,  and  very  shortly  was 
plunging  and  swimming,  a  rival  to  the  ducks. 

Mistress  Warwick  in  alarm  sought  the  Colonel. 

"  Brother !  brother  !"  said  she,  "  Indian  Charles  is  in  the 
St.  Lawrence.     Come  quickly,  or  he  will  be  drowned  !" 

She  led  him  to  a  windo\y  where  a  view  of  the  white  savage 
was  to  be  obtained,  as  he  laved  his  limbs  and  sported  in  the 
waves,  with  the  freedom  of  a  dolphin.  The  Colonel  burst  into 
a  loud  laugh. 

"  I  think  not,  Betty,"  said  he.  "  I  should  sooner  expect  to 
drown  a  Newfoundland  dog  than  that  fish  of  a  child.  He 
seems  as  much  at  home  there  as  a  waterfowl ;  and  were  my 
classic  lore  not  long  since  dissipated,  I  should  say  he  was 
quite  fit  to  become  a  page  to  Neptune  himself,  or  any  other  of 
the  gods  of  the  sea." 

The  garments  which  had  been  bespoken  were  soon  brought 
home,  and  Master  Charles  was  arrayed  in  a  neat  and  fash- 
ionable suit.  The  improvement  in  his  appearance,  in  conse- 
quence, was  matter  of  great  congratulation  to  his  kind  mis- 
tress ;  and  every  body  seemed  better  pleased  at  the  change 
than  the  lad  himself.  He  liked  the  hafidsome  articles  well 
enough,  as  he  held  them  in  his  hand  ;  but  being  robed  in  them 
was  a  very  different  concern.  His  limbs,  accustomed  to  free 
and  unrestricted  motion,  could  not  well  brook  the  prison  of 
close  breeches  and  coat ;  he  could  neither  stand,  nor  sit,  nor 
walk  with  any  ease  ;  and  much  less  could  he  run,  as  was  his 
wont,  like  the  wild  colt  of  the  prairie,  through  field,  and  forest, 
and  river,  thus  encumbered.  The  struggle  to  endure  them, 
ere  use  had  rendered  them  familiar,  almost  made  him  melan- 


TEE  YOUTH  OF  TOUXG   WARWICK,  23 

choly,  and  came  near  disgusting  him  at  the  outset/  with  the 
modes  of  civilized  life. 

As  Colonel  and  Mistress  Warwick  were  not  of  the  number 
of  those  who  perform  their  benevolent  actions  by  the  halves, 
they  at  once  set  about  the  due  instruction  of  their  protege. 
By  turns,  or  conjointly,  as  fancy  or  convenience  dictated,  the 
good  old  bachelor  and  maid  busied  themselves  with  teaching 
him  to  speak  the  English  tongue,  of  which,  if  he  ever  had  any 
knowledge,  no  vestige  now  remained.  The  first  lesson  con- 
sisted in  familiarizing  him  with  the  name  of  every  thing  he 
saw  ;  repeating  to  him,  and  encouraging  him  to  utter,  those 
mysterious  sounds  which,  to  the  initiated,  so  readily  call  up 
visions  of  chairs,  tables,  fire,  water,  trees,  the  clouds,  the  sun  ; 
and  all  other  substantive  things,  material  or  immaterial,  in  the 
wide  universe  of  creation  or  thought. 

But  leaving  the  Colonel  to  bring  the  exercises  of  the  first 
morning  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  Mistress  Warwick,  as 
mothers  and  maiden  aunts  in  behalf  of  their  pets  are  very  apt 
to  do  during  the  holidays — and  to  Master  Charles,  the  §arly 
days  of  his  liberation  were  emphatically  such — silently  slipped 
on  her  hat  and  shawl  and  went  shopping.  An  alphabet  and 
some  books  of  simple  reading,  as  things  of  absolute  necessity, 
were  first  procured  ;  next,  as  an  ofi'set  to  the  useful,  a  large 
basket  of  sundries,  viz.,  a  bulky  package  of  confections  ;  a 
dumb  watch,  which  had  the  voice  of  a  watch,  inasmuch  as  it 
could  be  wound  up  with  a  clatter,  but  the  hands  were  painted 
on  its  face  ;  a  wooden  lion  ;  a  dog  on  rockers  that  barked  out 
of  his  back  ;  a  black  svi^an  ;  a  pewter  cavalry-man  who  marched 
on  wheels  ;  a  nightingale  which  sung  with  a  bellows  ;  a  tin 
sword,  and  a  wooden  gun. 

Such  was  the  sporting  establishment  of  a  young  gentleman 
of  six  or  seven,  a  hundred  years  ago  ;  and  in  this  respect,  it 
must  be  confessed,  the  age  of  improvement  has  made  but  little 
change.     Toys,  however,  constitute  very  properly  with  child- 


24  CA2IP  FIIIL'S   OF  THE  RED  ME.Y. 

hood,  the  grave  affairs  of  life.  Alaster  Charles  examined  the 
collection  of  holiday  trinkets,  of  which  he  had  so  unexpectedly 
come  in  the  possession,  with  curious  eyes  ;  but  when  he  was 
made  to  comprehend  that  he  should  amuse  himself  by  rocking 
his  dog,  or  marching  his  soldier  on  wheels,  he  pushed  them 
from  him  with  an  expression  bordering  on  contempt.  Mistress 
Warwick  was  surprised,  and  thought  him  a  strange  child  ;  the 
Colonel  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  called  him  a  sensible  one. 
A  few  days  terminated  the  stay  of  the  British  officer  and 
his  sister  at  Quebec;  when,  accompanied  by  the  child  they 
had  rescued  from  b  mdage,  they  returned  to  New  York. 


ni^ttx  iaux. 


Oim  HKBO  IS  EAPIDLT  LED  ON  INTO  THE  BEALITIBS  OP  LIFE  AND  MANHOOD. 

"  Look  throueh  the  garden  and  the  sunny  vale, 
IJpon  the  beds  and  by  the  streamlets  sighing, 
And  blight  hath  struck  and  turned  the  biightest  palft— 
The  lily  droops,  the  fairest  rose  is  dying." 

rr^HE  reader  will  please  accept  the  youth,  with  a  fair  skin 
-i  and  the  habits  of  a  savage,  to  whose  informal  christening  in 
the  streets  of  Quebec  he  was  a  witness,  as  the  hero  of  this 
history.  His  benefactors  placed  him  at  school.  At  first  he 
w.  s  a  dull  scholar,  so  far  as  books  were  concerned ;  but 
showed  himself  apt  at  acquiring  oral  language  and  ideas 
which  were  presented  to  him  in  any  other  form  than  through 
the  routine  of  his  lessons.  Slowly  he  gave  up  his  wild  cus- 
toms, and  adopted  the  manners  of  civilization,  and  with  all 
was  tractable  and  kind,  and  approved  himself  a  lad  of  parts 
and  promise.  Colonel  and  Mistress  Warwick  became  fondly 
attached  to  him,  and  gradually  came  to  regard  him  in  the  light 
of  a  son. 

Until  he  became  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  English 
tongue  to  express  himself  clearly,  Colonel  Warwick  carefully 
refrained  from  any  allusion  to  his  early  history.  Then,  indeed 
he  questioned  him  with  much  minuteness,  hoping  to  gain  some 
clew  as  to  his  parentage,  a  subject  which,  at  some  future  period, 
he  was  aware  could  not  fail  to  become  one  of  engrossing  inter- 
est to  the  youth  himself.  He  found  the  lad's  recollection  im- 
perfect and  fragmentary.     He  had  no  knowledge  of  a  mother. 

2 


26  CA3fP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

His  father  he  remembered  distinctly,  but  his  name,  calling, 
or  place  of  abode  was  beyond  his  recall.  He  was  inclined  to 
think  that  he  had  never  seen  a  white  man  until  he  was  taken 
to  Quebec  ;  and  that  his  father  was  an  Indian,  but  quite  differ- 
ent, he  admitted,  from  other  savages.  He  had  loved  this  parent 
tenderly,  and  recollected  well  that  he  was  forcibly  separated 
from  him.  A  savage,  called  by  different  unpronounceable 
names  in  different  localities,  had  seized  him  while  at  play 
and  borne  him  off.  The  image  of  a  vast  precipice,  down 
which  at  one  time  his  captor  was  about  to  hurl  him,  was  in- 
delibly impressed  on  his  memory ;  and  he  was  quite  certain 
that  at  the  moment  when  this  great  danger  was  impending, 
his  father  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  gulf,  pressing  on  to  his 
rescue.  But  he  never  saw  that  father  more.  His  Indian  mas- 
ter urged  him  forward.  They  traveled  a  weary  way  over' 
rivers  and  lakes,  and  through  interminable  wildernesses,  and 
at  length  found  rest  with  a  strange  and  distant  tribe.  But  this 
was  only  temporary.  Soon  his  uneasy  captor  was  on  the  wing 
again,  and  for  years  they  wandered  from  tribe  to  tribe,  until 
the^  savage,  apparently  tired  of  his  charge,  passed  him  into  the 
hands  of  the  party  who  had  taken  him  to  Quebec. 

Such  was  the  sum  of  the  information  which,  with  much 
painstaking.  Colonel  Warwick  was  able  to  extract  from  the  be- 
clouded memory  of  his  adopted  son  relative  to  the  incidents  of 
his  early  life.  He  was  disappointed.  He  had  hoped  for  more. 
Still,  it  is  not  improbable  that  he  loved  him  all  the  better  for 
the  loneliness  of  his  condition  and  the  mystery  which  sur- 
rounded him.     The  boy  seemed  more  completely  his  own. 

The  history  of  children,  even  remarkable  ones,  is  not  always 
either  interesting  or  instructive  ;  and  we  shall  make  no  apology 
for  the  haste  with  which  we  pass  over  the  remaining  period 
of  the  childhood  of  our  hero,  to  the  time  when  he  commenced 
to  work  out  the  destiny  of  his  life.  With  him  the  lapse  of 
years  made  very  great  changes.     At  ten,  few  traces  of  his  sav- 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  OF  MANHOOD.  27 

age  habits  remained.  He  was  a  fair,  gentle,  intelligent  boy, 
exhibiting,  on  occasion,  much  energy  and  courage.  As  he  still 
advanced  in  age,  a  thoughtful  cast  of  character  and  a  fine 
sense  of  the  beautiful  were  developed.  Books  became  a  pas- 
sion with  him ;  and  nature,  quiet,  lovely  nature,  almost  a  sub- 
ject of  adoration.  He  delighted  to  rove  by  brooks  and  streams, 
to  clamber  up  the  hillside,  and  cull  the  wild-wood  flowers. 
Each  mount,  and  rock,  and  stream,  and  dell  possessed  its  sep- 
arate charm,  and  even  the  simple  tree  as  it  towered  alone, 
and  stood  out  relieved  against  the  sky,  was  to  him  a  vision  of 
delight.  Poetry,  music,  and  eloqiiencc  had  the  power  to  stir 
every  faculty  of  his  soul,  and  thrilled  along  his  nerves  with  a 
vibration  as  distinct  as  though  they  had  been  the  strings  of  a 
harp  touched  by  the  fingers  of  a  player.  But  when  the  ele 
ments  were  astir,  when  Nature  put  on  her  gala-dress  of  storms, 
and,  marshaling  her  black  squadrons  in  the  sky,  with  the  voice 
of  thunders,  and  with  flames,  and  winds,  and  waters,  made  war, 
as  it  were,  on  herself,  he  was  rapt  in  a  sort  of  ecstacy  :  he 
saw  no  danger,  and  he  felt  no  fear. 

Such  was  the  youth  whom  Colonel  Warwick  had  rescuetl 
from  the  ignorance  and  degradation  of  a  savage.  Still,  with 
all  his  fervency  of  imagination,  young  Charles  Warwick  re- 
garded men  and  things  with  a  clear,  unclouded  eye.  He 
early  saw  that  life  was  a  very  different  affair  from  the  pictures 
of  his  fancy,  or  the  descriptions  of  the  romancers,  and  accom- 
modated himself  to  it.  The  conviction,  it  is  true,  cost  him  a 
struggle  and  a  pang  ;  and  if  ever  he  sighed  for  a  forest  life 
again,  it  was  when  the  stern  realities  of  existence,  disrobed 
of  all  poetic  drapery,  became  a  truth  to  his  mind  and  the  gov- 
erning principle  of  his  actions. 

At  school,  his  genius  and  temperament  were  not  always 
understood.  He  was  a  close  student,  but  quite  too  excursive 
in  his  researches  to  command  the  praises  and  awards  of  the 
faculty.     He  had  many  friendly  admirers  but  few  intimates. 


28  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED   STEN. 

The  society  of  the  gentler  sex  was  to  him  a  source  of  elevated 
enjoyment ;  and  still  he  found  himself  unfitted  for  the  gay 
trifling,  of  which  good  society,  then  as  now,  was  composed. 
His  disposition  was  sensitive  :  he  possessed  a  keen  appreci- 
ation of  the  ludicrous,  and  a  strict  sense  of  integrity  which 
forbade,  from  the  first,  that  he  should  ever  play  with  that  deli- 
cate and  fragile  instrument — a  woman's  heart.  He  was  ac- 
cordingly regarded  by  some  as  unduly  timid  and  reserved. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  but  that  his  peculiar  situation,  de- 
pendent, though  he  was  never  made  to  feel  it,  and  at  the  same 
time  ignorant  if  even  a  drop  of  kindred  blood  flowed  in  the 
veins  of  any  living  creature,  operated  powerfully, nay,  at  times, 
preyed  like  a  vulture  on  his  heart.  Had  he  a  father  ?  a 
mother  ?  brothers  or  sisters  ?  He  would  have  given  worlds 
to  know.  But  memory  was  tortured  in  vain.  Her  stores,  if 
any  she  had,  were  deeply  buried,  far  beyond  the  reach  of  rec- 
ollection. He  barely  remembered  a  father,  but  even  the  quar- 
ter of  the  globe  in  which  he  lived  was  to  him  unknown. 

At  twenty,  Charles  Warwick  entered  on  the  active  business 
of  life  as  a  soldier.  Circumstances,  especially  the  predilec- 
tion of  his  benefactor,  to  which  the  ardent  temperament  of 
the  youth  himself  was  by  no  means  opposed,  had  conspired  to 
make  him  one  ;  and  he  commenced  his  career,  as  is  the  pleas- 
ing privilege  of  the  young,  with  high  hopes  and  an  honorable 
ambition,  which  perceived  in  the  future  no  point  too  elevated 
t6  be  attained.  His  general  duties  were  not  arduous.  It  was 
now  a  period  of  repose  with  the  Colonies.  England  and 
France  were  resting  on  their  weapons  after  the  peace  of  Aix- 
la-Chapelle,  and  secretly  strengthening  themselves  for  the 
struggle  which  followed.  The  principal  source  of  anxiety 
was  an  unquiet  condition  of  the  Confederacy  of  the  Six  Na- 
tions, with  whom  the  emissaries  of  France  were  known  to  be 
tampering  ;  and  in  protracted  negotiations  with  those  children 
of  the  forest,  it  was  the  rare  good  fortune  of  our  young  soldier 


FmST  ETPEliTES^CES  OF  ifA  VffOOD.  29 

to  distinguish  himself,  and  in  a  civil  rather  than  a  military 
field.  He  exhibited  a  knowledge  of  Indian  character,  and  a 
tact  in  the  management  and  conciliation  of  the  red  men,  which 
were  duly  appreciated  in  the  proper  quarters,  and  rewarded 
with  a  very  gratifying  advance  of  rank  and  consequence. 

Meanwhile  age  was  setting  his  seal  in  deeper  and  deeper 
characters  on  the  features  of  Colonel  and  Mistress  Warwick. 
In  the  absence  of  their  protege,  however,  they  were  still  con- 
soled by  the  presence  of  their  niece  Julia,  whom  they  had  not 
failed  to  invite  from  England,  and  who,  of  nearly  the  same 
age  as  our  hero,  had  been  brought  up  as  his  companion  and 
playmate,  and  been  taught  to  regard  him  as  a  brother.  On  his 
part  the  feeling  was  fully  reciprocated.  He  looked  on  the 
gentle  blue-eyed  girl  as  a  sister,  and  gave  her  strength,  as  the 
sun  invigorates  a  flower  ;  while  she,  in  return,  leaned  on  him 
in  confiding  trust,  and  looked  with  happy  pride  on  his  strong 
and  manly  qualities,  and  was  of  a  disposition  so  meek  that  it 
never  occurred  to  her  to  be  jealous  of  the  favor  and  expense 
which  her  relations  showered  upon  him,  an  unknown  found 
ling  though  he  was.  But  Julia  was  also  of  a  delicate  frame, 
and  soon  the  seeds  of  disease  developed  themselves  in  her 
system,  and  she  saw,  and  all  saw,  that  she  would  shortly  be 
called  to  go  hence.  The  event  occurred  just  as  young  War- 
wick had  won  his  first  laurels  in  the  strife  of  manhood.  The 
maiden  fell  asleep,  like  a  flower  withered  in  the  morning, 
though  willing  to  fold  its  petals  for  the  once,  that  it  might  burst 
into  a  richer  and  imperishable  bloom,  in  the  empire  of  the 
skies. 

It  is  said  that  the  strokes  of  fate  rarely  come  single  ;  and 
so  the  soft  eyes  of  Julia  were  hardly  closed  on  the  light  of 
life,  when  she  was  followed  by  her  guardian  and  more  than 
father,  Colonel  Warwick.  His  illness  was  short,  and  he  died 
as  he  had  lived,  calmly,  and  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  His 
latest  breath  called  down  blessings  on  the  head  of  his  son  ; 


30  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

and  he  expired  in  his  arms.  This  double  stroke  was  a  heavy 
one  to  young  Charles  Warwick ;  it  gave  him  a  new  insight 
into  life,  and  the  materials  whereof  it  is  composed. 

Oh  Death  !  thou  never  sleepest ;  and  when  least  expected, 
thy  fleshless  fingers  are  upon  us.  Thou  art  like  the  winds, 
visiting  all  things,  and  culling  thy  victims  by  the  touch,  for 
thou  art  blind.  Else  wouldst  thou  spare  the  fair,  the  gentle, 
and  the  good,  and  confine  thy  ravages  to  those  who  burden 
the  earth  with  their  sins  ;  and  to  the  ripe  sheaf,  which  has 
sunned  out  its  day,  which  should  not,  and  cares  not  to  say  thee 
nay.  But  thou  art  no  respecter  of  persons.  Thou  strikest 
down  age  and  youth  alike,  even  the  flower,  which  as  yet  but 
for  a  day  has  been  fanned  by  the  perfumed  air  of  life.  Thine 
iron  hand  is  on  the  world.  Thou  marchest  with  thy  scythe 
in  advance  of  the  conqueror,  and  when  thou  wiliest,  turnest 
upon  him.  Thou  speakest  to  kings  and  they  tremble.  Thou 
breathest  on  nations  and  they  die.  And  yet  thou  art  the 
good  Angel  of  Deliverance  and  Hope. 


€]mut  iht. 


THE  BARNKGAT  HOTEL.  A  LANDSCAPE  BY  THE  SEA. 


"  Cease  to  lament  for  that  thou  canst  not  help.' 


WE  ttre  now  approaching  a  period  in  the  life  of  Charies 
Warwick  when  the  events  of  years  can  no  longer  be 
crowded  into  a  chapter.  We  have  dwelt  sufficiently  on  his 
youth,  and  sketched  with  sufficient  distinctness  the  character 
of  his  mind,  to  prepare  the  reader  for  any  act  which,  in  his 
subsequent  career,  it  may  become  our  business  to  narrate. 

Colonel  Warwick  left  a  will,  by  which  his  moderate  fortune 
was  bequeathed  jointly  to  his  sister  and  his  adopted  son  ;  with 
the  single  proviso,  that  the  youth  continue  to  bear  his  name. 
But  what  is  money  to  a  wounded  spirit  ?  Grief,  pale,  corroding 
grief,  which  for  the  time  overshadowed  every  hope  and  antici- 
pation of  life,  sorrow  for  the  ripe  sheaf,  sorrow  for  the  flower, 
lay  at  the  heart  of  the  young  soldier  so  coldly  as  nearly  to  sever 
the  hold  of  his  afi*ections  on  the  world.  It  was  the  unrestrained 
woe  of  Mistress  Warwick,  his  mother,  as  he  had  been  taught 
and  delighted  to  call  her,  and  the  necessity  of  making  an  at- 
tempt to  console  her,  which  first  enforced  on  him  the  propri- 
ety of  curbing  his  own  grief.  In  soothing  her  he  occupied 
his  mind,  and  discovered  in  addition  that  in  the  holy  task  there 
was  also  consolation  for  himself.  Soon  his  own  good  sense 
instructed  him,  that  though  the  dead  should  be  kindly  remem- 
bered, it  is  vain,  worse  than  vain,  to  inordinately  grieve  for 
them.     The  living  claim  our  care  ;  the  dead  are  in  the  hands 


32  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

of  Him  who  gave  them  to  the  world,  and  took  them  from  it ; 
and  it  is  not  sound  reason  to  suppose  that  our  departed  friends, 
though  they  may  still  be  cognizant  of  our  actions — angels 
floating  round  us — are  at  all  gratified  with  our  unceasing  tears 
and  lamentations.  No  griefs,  no  perplexities,  no  possible 
combination  of  calamities,  should  ever  be  suffered  to  break 
down  the  energies  of  the  mind.  Religion  and  philosophy  alike 
teach  us  this,  alike  inculcate  resignation  to  the  inevitable  ills 
of  life,  and  alike  encourage  us  under  all  circumstances  to  hope.' 
True,  such  is  the  weakness  of  our  nature,  and  the  dimness  of 
our  faith,  that  it  seems  nearly  inevitable  that  we  should  be- 
come prostrated  by  some  of  those  sudden  anii  tiremendous 
strokes  which  occasionally  visit  us  ;  but  the  mind  ought  to  be 
so  well  balanced  as  to  recover  its  strength  with  a  rebound  al- 
most as  sudden  as  the  shock  ;  and  very  shortly,  its  perfect 
buoyancy  :  and  he  is  a  man  indeed,  who  has  so  schooled  and 
braced  his  mental  powers  that  no  event  can  shake  them,  and 
still  preserves  in  their  freshness  those  sensibilities  and  sym- 
pathies which  are  the  redeeming  and  most  beautiful  traits  of 
the  human  character. 

But  with  most  persons  time  is  the  only  effectual  soother  of 
sorrow,  and  thus  Warwick  found  it.  Busied  again  with  the 
duties  of  his  profession  and  the  cares  of  life,  the  present  ulti- 
mately resumed  its  hold  over  him,  and  anon  other  hopes  and 
anticipations  took  the  place  of  those  which  were  blighted. 
He  regained  his  spirits  ;  and  though  the  past  was  by  no  meajgis 
obliterated  from  his  memory,  it  receded  from  the  forefront  of 
the  mental  screen  to  the  background,  where  it  remained  like 
the  haze  of  twilight  or  a  distant  cloud. 

It  was  near  the  evening  of  a  fine  spring  day  when  our 
young  officer  and  his  aged  mother,  on  their  return  from  the 
South,  whither  they  had  been  on  a  tour  of  health  and  pleasure, 
as  far  as  Jamestown,  in  the  Colony  of  Virginia,  found  them- 
selves at  a  hotel,  overlooking  the  sea,  in  a  most  wild  and  pic- 


THE  TA  YEBN  BY  THE  SEA.  33 

turesque  portion  of  New  Jersey.  The  house  was  a  low,  old- 
fashioned  red  building,  covering  considerable  ground ;  and  was 
very  comfortably  fitted  up  for  a  country  establishment  of  the 
period  ;  but  there  was  one  peculiarity  about  it  which  could 
not  fail  to  strike  a  stranger  with  surprise.  The  furniture  and 
appendages  seemed  to  have  been  gathered  from  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  globe,  and  with  a  very  small  reference  to  propriety 
or  fitness.  Broken  masts  and  spars,  ropes  and  torn  sails, 
anchors  and  pieces  of  ordnance,  lay  scattered  around  ;  and  a 
marble  figure  of  Apollo,  of  respectable  workmanship,  kept 
guard  over  a  water-trough  in  the  court-yard.  Within,  the  con- 
trast was  equally  remarkable.  Rich  sofas  and  chairs,  Turkey 
carpets  of  disproportionate  size  to  the  floors  they  covered,  and 
spread  about  without  order  ;  pier-glasses,  vases,  marble  tables, 
pictures,  and  damask  curtains  were  mixed  in  with  wooden 
benches,  deal  stools  and  tables,  and  other  rustic  furniture. 
This  incongruity  at  once  attracted  the  notice  of  our  travelers, 
who,  aware  that  this  coast  was  famous  for  its  shipwrecks, 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  many  of  the  articles  in  question 
had  been  rescued  from  the  deep ;  and  that  each,  could 
it  speak,  might  tell  a  story  involving  something  beyond 
insensible  matter — a  tale  of  human  vicissitudes  and  sor- 
rows. 

After  supper,  Mistress  Warwick  and  her  son  walked  out 
upon  the  cliffs  which  overlooked  the  ocean.  The  verdure  of 
the  region  seemed  principally  confined  to  the  acclivity  occu- 
pied by  the  hotel.  There  was  a  background  of  stunted  trees 
md  distant  hills,  interspersed  with  occasional  cleared  patches 
and  mean  huts.  In  front,  at  the  foot  of  a  ragged  line  of  cliffs, 
was  a  broken  beach,  and  the  interminable  and  deceptive  sea, 
disfigured  with  projecting  rocks,  which  sufficiently  indicated 
the  dangers  of  the  coast.  To  the  right,  the  shore  curved  in- 
land ;  and  in  the  distance,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  pre- 
sented to  the  view  a  sandy  plain  slightly  varied  by  elevations, 

2* 


34  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

and  devoid  of  vegetation,  save  an  occasional  shrub  oak  or  yel- 
low pine.      * 

The  history  of  that  coast  has  long  been  written  in  storms 
and  human  disaster.  Now,  however,  it  was  at  the  close  of  a 
calm  day ;  the  gulls  floated  in  the  air,  and  fearlessly  dropped 
down  and  dipped  their  white  breasts  in  the  measured  waves, 
as  they  foiled  in  ceaseless  succession  against  the  shore  ;  and 
the  line  of  hazy  blue  which  bounded  the  reach  of  vision  in 
the  distance  over  the  water,  looked  like  the  entrance  into 
fairy-land. 

Having  noted  the  several  impressive  points  in  the  prospect, 
the  mind  of  Mistress  Warwick,  as  is  customary  with  the  aged, 
reverted  to  other  days  and  other  scenes  connected  with  her 
early  life.  She  recurred  to  merry  England  ;  and,  aided  by  a 
clouded  recollection,  the  enchantment  which  distance  lends  to 
objects,  and  the  faithful  predilections  of  a  first  love,  which 
fasten  our  hearts  to  our  father-land,  wherever  and  whatever  it 
may  be,  she  spoke  in  glowing  terms  of  the  beauty,  and  wealth, 
and  splendor  of  the  mother-country.  She  dwelt  on  the  garden- 
ike  appearance  of  its  whole  extent ;  the  beauty  of  its  hills, 
and  vales,  and  rivers,  and  sea-girdled  shores  ;  its  trellised  cot- 
tages and  frowning  castles  ;  the  magnificence  of  its  cities  ;  the 
grandeur  of  its  aristocracy,  its  nobles,  its  prelates,  and  its  king; 
with  all  which  America  presented  but  a  poor  comparison. 

"  In  fine,  Charles,"  continued  the  good  lady,  as  the  sea- 
fowl  circled  and  screamed  around  her  head,  "  the  vel-y  birds 
here  are  quite  a  diff'erent  affair  from  what  they  are  in  the  old 
country.  They  are  nothing  so  fine  in  their  plumage,  nor  so 
sweet  in  their  songs." 

Charles  ventured  to  suggest  that  a  comparison  between  the 
notes  of  the  European  nightingale  and  the  American  sea-mew 
was  hardly  appropriate. 

"  But,"  continued  Mistress  Warwick,  "  I  have  recently 
thought  that  the  domestic  fowls  of  this  country  even  are  not 


TBE  TA  VERN  BY  THE  SEA.  35 

to  be  compared  in  size  or  beauty  with  those  of  Britain ;  and 
the  fruits  and  trees,  I  feel  very  certain,  are  quite  inferior." 

'  'Mother,"  said  Warwick,  kindly,  "  England  is  a  noble  coun- 
try, without  a  doubt ;  and  if  it  be  at  all  necessary  to  your  com- 
fort, we  will  go  there.  You  know  I  have  not  so  great  a  love 
for  lords  and  kings  as  some,  having  never  been  much  accus- 
tomed to  them ;  still  there  are  many  things  across  the  water  I 
should  be  glad  to  see  ;  and  were  it  otherwise,  if  to  go  will  add 
to  your  happiness,  it  will  also  add  to  mine." 

"  I  very  well  know  that,  my  child,"  returned  the  matron  , 
"  but  still,  at  my  age,  I  am  doubtful  of  the  propriety  of  under- 
taking so  long  a  voyage.  There  are  many  things,  too,  in  the 
Colonies  I  should  regret  to  leave  ;  and  after  all,  England 
might  not  seem  to  me  now  as  it  did  in  olden  times,  and  per- 
haps it  is  better  that  I  should  have  it  to  think  of,  as  memory 
brings  it  before  me,  than  to  find  it  changed,  as  other  things 
have  changed.  But  see,  Charles,  what  an  alteration  there  is 
in  the  sky !      I  fear  we  shall  get  a  storm." 

Truly,  while  this  brief  conversation  was  in  progress,  dark, 
wavy  clouds  had  been  sweeping  up  the  eastern  horizon,  the 
wind  had  sensibly  freshened  ;  and  there  was  that  tense,  and  at 
the  same  time  tremulous,  feel  of  the  air  which  betokens  strife 
in  the  elements.  Warw  ck  hastened  his  companion  to  the 
shelter  of  the  house. 


ajter  3h 


DANDIWOKK   OF  THE  OCEAN.    -  A   SHIPWRECK   THROWS  SOME  NOBLE   FOEEIGN- 
KKS  INTO   THE  KEADER's  SOCIETY.     THE  LADY   VIOLA. 


"  Leave  not  my  Anah  to  the  swallowing  tides."  __ 

HAVING  placed  his  charge  in  safety,  our  young  soldier  be- 
took himself  again  to  the  cliffs,  to  watch  the  storm  which 
he  felt  confident  was  approaching.  The  black  clouds  were 
spreading  over  the  horizon  like  squadrons  of  armed  men  ;  and 
night  rushed  on  the  earth,  as  though  the  sky  were  suddenly 
hung  with  a  curtain.  The  shadows  of  darkness  came  like 
rolling  waves  quickly  succeeding  each  other,  and  so  distinct 
that  they  seemed  almost  sensible  to  the  touch.  As  yet  there 
was  no  rain  ;  but  the  winds  were  moaning  in  fitful  and  threat- 
ening gusts,  and  the  great  ocean  complained  and  trembled  like 
a  frightened  child. 

If  there  be  such  a  thing  as  fascination  in  nature,  it  would 
seem  to  be  experienced  in  those  awful  moments  of  preparation 
which  precede  the'Tt)ursting  of  a  tempest.  Warwick  stood 
upon  the  cliffs,  and  bared  his  head  and  bosom  to  the  winds. 
Gradually  the  low-muttering  thunder  gathered  strength,  and 
deeper  and  nearer  burst  in  rapid  succession,  until  flash  and 
report  were  simultaneous,  and  the  explosions  were  of  such 
force  as  to  jar  the  rocks  on  which  he  was  standing.  The 
lightnings  played  around  him  like  wild,  spectral  horses  breath- 
ing fire  and  smoke.  He  felt  their  warm  breath  on  his  face,  and 
the  subtile  fluid  in  his  veins ;  and  a  sickening  faintness  came 


1 


THE  LADY   VIOLA.  37 


over  him.  But  he  felt  no  fear  :  he  was  spell^bound.  For  an 
instant  the  entire  landscape  would  be  lighted  up  with  more  than 
the  brilliancy  of  the  sun,  and  again  as  suddenly  shut  in  with  a 
darkness  as  black  as  that  of  the  caves  of  Erebus.  The  sea,  he 
perceived,  had  already  become  lashed  into  a  fury.  The  winds 
swept  over  it  with  the  power  of  the  fiercest  hurricane,  molding 
it  at  its  will  into  every  form  of  wild  and  fantastic  beauty. 

But  such  violence  could  not  long  endure  ;  and  as  the  wind 
lulled,  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents.  The  thunder  was  less 
incessant,  and  the  descending  floods  seemed  to  obey  its  man- 
date. They  would  slacken,  as  though  the  great  mysterious 
forces  of  nature  were  arranging  their  batteries  for  a  fresh  on- 
set. Then  would  come  the  discharge  again — a  startling,  jar- 
ring peal,  a  sublime,  terrible  voice  for  the  night ;  the  moment- 
ary flash  would  show  the  clouds  rent  and  flying,  and  the  water 
would  rush  to  the  earth  as  though  driven  by  some  tremendous 
engine  of  the  sky. 

But  the  hurricane  had  evidently  reached  its  height,  and  was 
abating.  During  the  fall  of  rain,  Warwick  had  found  a  con- 
venient shelter  in  a  little  lookout-box,  perched  on  the  height 
of  the  cliffs  ;  and  now,  satisfied  with  the  displays  of  the  night, 
he  was  about  seeking  the  protection  of  the  inn,  when  his  ear 
caught  the  report  of  a  gun  on  the  ocean.  It  was  repeated  ; 
and  as  the  lightning  shed  a  broad  illumination  over  the  waste 
of  waters,  he  discovered  a  ship  under  bare  poles,  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  shore,  and  driving  at  a  rapid  rate  directly 
toward  the  rocks  which  lined  the  beach.  He  lost  no  time  in 
conveying  the  intelligence  to  the  hotel. 

The  publican,  a  square-built,  weather-beaten  man,  with  the 
air  and  manners  of  one  who  had  followed  the  sea,  received 
the  announcement  with  a  stolidity  bordering  on  indifference. 
There  was  a  slight  twinkle  in  his  eye,  however,  as  though  the 
intelligence  was  not  altogether  unpleasant  to  him,  and  draw- 
ing a  brand  from  the  blazing  wood-fire  on  the  hearth,  he  passed 


38  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

out  through  a  side  door.  A  moment  after,  Warwick  was 
startled  at  the  report  of  a  cannon,  so  near  the  house  as  to  jar 
it  and  rattle  the  glass  in  the  windows.  This  was  immediately- 
followed  by  the  whizz  and  glare  of  a  bevy  of  rockets ;  and  these 
in  their  turn  by  a  bonfire,  which  seemed  to  burst  into  being 
without  hands,  on  the  cliffs,  and  blazed  up  into  a  broad  column 
of  fire  which  could  be  seen  for  many  miles.  But  the  publican 
knew  what  he  was  about.  These  were  intended  as  signals, 
both  to  encourage  the  endangered  vessel,  and  to  gather  the 
scattered  inhabitants  of  the  region  to  the  coast.  He  then 
collected  his  retainers,  and  with  Warwick  proceeded  to  the 
shore. 

The  storm  had  ceased,  save  that  the  wind  was  still  blowing 
freshly.  The  Clouds  were  flashing  a  parting  salute,  and  flee- 
ing iri  broken  masses  from  the  sky.  All  was  fair,  and  fra- 
grant, and  hopeful,  except  the  writhing  ocean,  and  the  disabled 
ship,  with  her  freight  of  life.  At  a  glance  it  was  evident  that 
she  must  go  ashore,  and  equally  certain  that  no  boat  could 
live  in  such  a  sea. 

Warwick,  with  a  trepidation  that  indicated  little  familiarity 
with  such  scenes,  inquired  if  nothing  could  be  done  to  rescue 
the  exposed  wretches. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  the  landlord.  "  Their  only  hope  is 
m  Heaven  and  their  boats,  when  the  ship  strikes." 

Meanwhile,  as  the  dying  flashes  of  lightning  afforded 
glimpses  of  the  vessel,  her  decks  were  discovered  crowded 
with  human  beings  in  every  attitude  of  exertion  and  despair. 
The  gathering  wreckers  on  the  cliffs  shouted  to  encourage 
them,  and  a  faint  response  came  up  from  the  deep,  which 
sounded  like  a  muflled  wail,  rather  than  a  voice  of  hope. 

"  There  is  a  channel,"  said  the  publican,  "  if  they  under- 
stand the  shore,  and  can  keep  their  craft  in  it.  They  are 
threading  it,"  continued  he,  as  the  vessel  for  a  moment  was 
visible,  stoutly  struggling  in  the  midst  of  the  breakers,  with 


THE  LADY  VIOLA.  -  39 


a  single  strip  of  canvas  set,  and  apparently  answering  her 
helm. 

But  the  courage  which  the  landlord's  remark  inspired  was 
fated  to  be  suddenly  dissipated.  There  was  a  crash  out  on 
the  sea,  and  shrieks  came  up  from  the  waves — those  shrieks 
of  agony  and  terror  which  mortals  only  utter  at  the  moment 
of  sudden  and  decisive  fate,  and  though  faint  to  the  ears  of 
those  who  were  watching  on  the  cliffs,  they  were  distinct 
enough  to  reach  their  hearts,  and  to  curdle  them. 

"  Let  us  to  the  boats  !"  exclaimed  Warwick,  stepping  for- 
ward. 

"  Stop !  young  man,"  said  the  publican,  laymg  his  heavy 
hand  on  the  youth's  shoulder.  "  You  rush  to  your  own  de- 
struction without  a  chance  of  helping  them.  Our  boats  would 
not  live  a  minute  in  such  a  surf.  It  is  no  ways  likely  that  the 
ship  will  go  to  pieces  at  once,  if  she  has  struck ;  and  the 
water  is  every  moment  getting  more  calm.  See,  she  is  still 
erect !" 

He  pointed  with  his  finger  to  the  vessel  now  again  visible, 
at  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  shore  ;  still  erect,  as 
he  said,  but  beating  heavily  against  the  rocks,  and  staggering 
beneath  the  force  of  the  waves,  which  at  every  swell  broke 
over  her.  Few  persons  were  now  to  be  seen  on  her  decks. 
They  had  been  swept  overboard,  or  had  fled  for  security  below. 

How  terrible  under  such  circumstances  is  suspense  !  For 
hours,  a  period  almost  interminable,  it  must  have  seemed  to 
those  on  the  stranded  ship,  there  was  little  change  in  the  pos- 
ture of  affairs.  The  party  on  shore  watched  and  waited,  not 
wholly  without  hope,  while  the  other  wailed,  and  wept,  and 
prayed  in  almost  utter  despair.  The  friendly  moon,  mean- 
while, having  escaped  from  the  flying  masses  of  clouds  in  the 
west,  looked  out  with  her  calm,  encouraging  face  over  the 
frightful  scene.  It  was  quite  evident  that  the  sea  was  fast 
becoming  composed.     The  publican  congratulated  his  associ- 


40  CAMP  FIRES  OF   THE  RED  MEN. 


ates  on  this  favorable  phase  in  the  desperate  circum^ances 
of  the  night ;  but  the  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth 
before  it  became  equally  evident  that  the  ship  was  sinking. 
Those  who  had  sought  safety  in  the  cabins  now  rushed  again 
on  deck.  Shrieks,  heart-rending  cries  for  help,  filled  the  air  ; 
and  the  wildest  confusion  reigned  in  the  ill-starred  vessel. 
One  small  portion  alone  of  the  deck  seemed  still  under  any 
command ;  and  from  this,  very  soon,  a  boat  was  let  down, 
filled  with  human  beings.  Contrary  to  the  expectation  of 
those  who  were  watching  from  the  cliffs,  it  was  safely  launched, 
and  the  moment  it  touched  the  water  was  fortunately  borne  by 
a  swell  clear  of  all  contact  with  the  ship.  Both  the  wind  and 
the  waves  conspired  to  drive  it  rapidly  onward  in  the  direction 
of  the  shore  ;  but  as  is  almost  unavoidable  in  periods  of  such 
disaster,  the  little  craft  was  quite  overloaded,  even  for  a  smooth 
sea.  Under  present  circumstances,  its  living  to  reach  land 
could  be  considered  little  short  of  a  miracle. 

The  publican  and  his  companions  watched  the  experiment 
with  great  interest ;  and  familiar  as  they  were  with  the  horrors 
of  the  sea,  when  they  perceived  that  several  females  were  on 
board  the  little  boat,  which  in  its  sturdy  efforts  to  sustain  its 
precious  freight,  seemed  breasting  the  billows  like  a  thing  of 
life,  they  could  no  longer  restrain  their  enthusiasm.  They 
^  rushed  below  in  a  body  to  the  beach,  and  into  the  water  to 
their  waists,  that  they  might  be  in  a  position,  if  possible,  to  aid 
in  the  rescue. 

"  She  stands  it  well,"  said  the  landlord,  "  and  God  send 
that  she  reach  the  shore  in  safety,  and  that  we  may  yet  have 
a  happy  finish  to  this  rough  night." 

"  Amen !"  ejaculated  his  companions,  urging  themselves 
still  farther  into  the  brine. 

Warwick,  in  his  dismay,  was  speechless.  At  one  moment 
the  little  craft  would  be  seen  riding  buoyant  on  the  summit  of 
a  wave,  and  the  next  she  would  be  lost  to  sight  in  the  trouglj 


THE  LADY  VIOLA,  41 


of  the  ocean.     These  last,  to  the  young  soldier,  were  periods 
of  fearful  alarm. 

"  Good  God  !"  exclaimed  the  publican,  in  a  voice  betoken- 
ing the  utmost  horror,  as  the  boat  remained  a  little  longer  than 
usual  hidden  from  view,  "  it  is  all  over  with  them,  I  think." 

"  No,  no,"  quickly  returned  Warwick,  finding  his  voice  in 
the  excitement  of  hope,  as  his  watchful  eye  for  an  instant 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  missing  object,  "  she  still  rides. 
Courage  !  courage  !"  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice  ;  and 
the  cry  was  taken  up  and  helped  on  by  the  utmost  stretch  of 
sound  which  the  lungs  of  fifty  hardy  wreckers  could  compass. 

It  was  heard  ;  and  a  slow,  long  "  Hoa,  thanks  !"  came  over 
the  water  in  reply,  and  in  a  voice  betokening  any  thing  bu( 
despair. 

Indeed,  the  boat  stood  the  rough  sea  to  a  miracle,  and  ere 
long  she  had  made  so  much  headway  that  those  on  board  of 
her  were  pretty  distinctly  visible.  She  seemed  under  the 
guidance  of  a  master  spirit,  a  tall,  powerful  man,  who,  as  they 
neared  the  shore,  stood  erect  in  the  stern  and  coolly  governed 
her  movements.  Of  him  the  hardy  coast-men  expressed  their 
admiration  in  unmeasured  terms. 

But  few  rods  now  intervened  between  the  struggling  craft 
and  the  shore,  and  Warwick  and  his  companions  were  already 
exulting  in  her  safety,  when,  as  it  seemed,  she  slightly 
touched  a  concealed  rock  which  turned  her  from  her  course 
The  tall  stranger  applied  his  strength  and  skill  to  right  her^ 
but  helm  and  oar  proved  powerless  against  the  force  of  the 
swell  which  struck  and  overwhelmed  her.  She  filled,  and 
sunk  instantly. 

Warwick  plunged  into  the  foaming  brine,  and  was  followed 
by  the  publican  and  the  boldest  of  his  men.  They  pushed 
forward  vigorously,  and  soon  were  m  the  midst  of  the  strug- 
gling wretches.  Warwick  found  himself  in  contact  with 
the  tall  helmsman  who  had  attracted  his  attention,  and  who, 


42  CAMP  FIRES  OF   THE  RED  MEN. 

bearing  a  female  on  his  shoulder,  struck  back  the  waves  with 
his  giant  limbs  as  he  urged  his  way  toward  land.  With  a 
single  glance — though  thg  meeting  was  at  night  in  the  sea — 
which  seemed  to  say  that  he  recognized  a  kindred  spirit  in 
the  young  soldier,  he  placed  the  lady  in  his  arms,  and  himself 
turned  back  again  to  the  rescue  of  others. 

A  few  moments  with  Warwick,  moments  of  singular  inter 
est  in  the  object  he  held  to  his  bosom,  sufficed  to  bear  her  to 
a  place  of  safety,  and  he  also  was  again  breasting  the  waves 
In  the  first  surge  that  swept  over  him  he  came  in  severe  col- 
lision with  the  body  of  a  man,  who  had  already  ceased  strug- 
gling and  had  yielded  himself  and  the  aspirations  of  this 
world  at  length  quietly  into  the  hands  of  his  fate.  Warwick 
dragged  him  ashore,  and  as  he  bore  him  up  the  beach  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  waves,  he  could  not  but  remark,  by  tljie  light 
of  the  beacon  still  blazing  aloft  on  the  rocks,  the  extreme 
richness  of  his  dress  and  the  foreign  aspect  of  every  thing 
about  him.  His  fingers  were  circled  with  heavy  rings,  and  a 
chain  of  great  value  and  a  glittering  star  flashed  on  his 
breast.  The  young  soldier  placed  him  in  the  care  of  those  on 
shore,  and  as  he  was  giving  some  hasty  directions  for  his  re- 
covery, had  the  satisfaction  to  perceive  that  animation  was 
already  returning.  Attracted  by  a  voice  of  low  but  deep  dis- 
tress, he  discovered  but  few  paces  away,  supported  by  her 
women  as  she  stood  dripping  on  the  sand,  the  lady  whom  he 
had  previously  aided  to  rescue.  In  the  haste  and  confusion 
of  the  moment  he  had  merely  remarked  that  she  was  young 
and  fair  ;  now,  touched  by  her  sorrow,  he  took  her  by  the 
hand  and  addressed  her  a  few  inspiring  words  of  comfort  and 
of  hope.  She  replied  by  sobs  and  a  soft  and  liquid  utterance 
in  a  foreign  tongue,  which  though  quite  capable  of  conveying 
a  distinct  impression  to  the  mind,  as  a  combination  of  words, 
was  entirely  unintelligible  to  her  listener.  The  American  did 
not  fail  to  perceive,  however,  as  the  light  flashed  down  from 


THE  LADY  VIOLA.  43 


the  rocks,  that  her  eyes  were  large  and  lustrolis,  and  her  com- 
plexion, though  pallid  with  fright,  pure  as  the  snows  of  his 
own  north.  He  had  hardly  completed  these  slight  observa- 
tions, when,  with  an  exclamation  of  delight,  the  fair  stranger 
sprung  past  him  and  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  an  elderly 
gentleman,  who,  also  dripping  from  the  brine,  now  approached, 
supported,  as  he  slowly  toiled  up  the  beach,  by  the  athletic 
helmsman. 

Meanwhile  the  landlord  and  his  men  had  done  good  service. 
Of  those  who  were  in  the  boat  when  she  capsized,  some  had 
saved  themselves  by  their  skill  as  swimmers,  others  had  been 
thrown  ashore  by  the  waves,  but  more  had  been  plucked  from 
graves  in  the  yawning  sea  by  the  bravery  of  those  who  had^ 
so  fearlessly  gone  to  their  resQiue,  until  it  appeared  probable 
from  a  hasty  count  and  comparison  of  recollection  that  the 
whole  number  were  safely  assembled  on  the  beach.  There- 
upon the  party,  sad  but  rejoicing,  though  several  of  them 
were  in  an  extremely  exhausted  condition,  dragged  their 
way,  by  the  aid  of  the  hardy  wreckers,  up  the  cliffs  to  the 
hotel. 

The  night  by  this  time  was  well  advanced.  During  the 
more  pressing  peril  of  the  boat  the  ship  was  lost  sight  of,  and 
Tiow,  as  the  first  dawn  of  morning  came  in  from  the  east,  cov- 
ering all  things  with  a  gossamer  mantle  of  gray,  she  was  dis- 
covered lodged  and  stationary  on  the  rocks.  Her  helpless 
crew  by  frequent  cries  for  succor  gave  evidence  of  their  con- 
tinued preservation  ;  but  as  the  danger  of  navigating  the  inter- 
mediate stretch  of  sea  with  the  small  shore-craft  was  hourly 
becoming  less,  it  was  nearly  certain  that  their  safety  was  best 
consulted  by  a  still  farther  delay.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
hours,  however,  they  were  relieved  from  their  perilous  situa- 
tion, and  a  happy  termination  was  thus  given  to  a  night  of 
fearful  terror,  not  a  life  throughout  the  whole  affair  having 
been  lost. 


44  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

The  vessel  proved  to  be  a  Spanish  galleon  bound  for  New 
York.  Her  first  officer,  Captain  Pandriel,  was  a  small,  dark 
personage,  with  enormous  whiskers  and  mustaches,  and  on 
the  whole  a  man  of  no  very  prepossessing  appearance  ;  but 
the  one  to  whom  most  deference  was  paid  was  the  elderly- 
gentleman  already  noticed,  who  to  a  very  decided  military 
air  and  figure,  added  an  agreeable  and  commanding  presence. 
As  soon  as  the  safety  of  all  was  ascertained,  this  gentleman, 
accompanied  by  the  courageous  helmsman,  sought  out  our  hero, 
and  courteously  taking  him  by  the  hand,  addressed  him  in 
very  good  English  some  words  of  thanks,  in  which  it  was  quite 
evident,  however,  that  aristocratic  formality,  deeply  awakened 
emotion,  and  a  want  of  familiarity  with  the  language,  together, 
formed  a  serious  impediment  in  the  way  of  his  undertaking. 

"  I  am  informed,  gentle  sir,"  said  he,  "  by  my  friend  John-J 
son  here,  that  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  the  preservation  of  the 
life  of  my  daughter,  the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo,  from  the  horrors 
of  our  late  shipwreck,  the  particulars  of  which  I  beg  you  to 
excuse  me  if  I  do  not  now  recall ;  and  also  for  the  rescue,  at 
the  same  time,  from  the  waves,  in  an  insensible  condition,  of 
my  much  esteemed  friend,  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino.  In 
what  way,  I  pray  you,  brave  sir,  can  we  most  satisfactorily  to 
you  express  our  gratitude,  if  we  can  not  hope  in  any  degree 
to  cancel  the  weighty  obligations  under  which  we  rest? 
Money,  sir,  is  dross  by  the  side  of  life  ;"  and  as'  he  said  this 
he  took  a  purse  from  the  hand  of  Johnson. 

But  the  Spaniard  did  not  offer  to  present  it.  He  readily 
understood  the  feeling  of  wounded  pride  which  at  once  man- 
tled the  face  of  the  young  American,  who  hastened  to  express 
in  return  the  ample  satisfaction  he  had  received  for  the  aid  he 
had  been  able  to  render  in  the  acts  themselves,  and  to  assure 
Don  Manuel  Torrillo  that  for  the  safely  of  his  daughter,  at 
least,  his  principal  thanks  were  due  to  his  companion,  the 
individual  by  his  side. 


THE  LADY   riOLA.  43 


"  Ah !"  said  Don  Manuel,  with  a  brightening  and  tearful 
eye,  "  I  have  been  so  often  indebted  to  your  countryman,  Mr. 
Michael  Johnson,  for  favors  both  great  and  small,  that  I  no 
longer  find  it  convenient  on  every  separate  occasion  to  express 
my  emotions  or  my  thanks.  But  this  once  I  may  be  allowed 
to  do  so,  for  last  night  me,  also,  did  he  force  back  to  life, 
dragging  me  even  out  of  the  wide-open  jaws  of  death  itself." 

Thus  saying  he  threw  ^is  arms  around  the  plain,  weather- 
beaten  man  before  him,  and  pressed  him  warmly  to  his  breast. 
A  few  moments  having  been  given  to  this  natural  outbreak  of 
feeling,  the  Spaniard  again  took  Warwick's  hand,  and  silently 
placing  on  his  finger  a  valuable  gem,  he  led  him  into  the 
presence  of  his  daughter. 

The  Lady  Viola  was  a  pale,  dark-haired  girl.  She  was 
very  pale  and  languid  in  her  appearance,  though  both  the 
color  and  the  lassitude  might  have  been  much  heightened  by 
the  sufferings  she  had  so  lately  undergone.  She  did  not  at- 
tempt to  express  directly  what  she,  nevertheless,  very  evi- 
dently felt,  but  contented  herself  with  a  modest  utterance  of 
her  thankfulness  in  Spanish,  which  her  father  rendered  with 
a  mixture  of  pride  and  parental  satisfaction  to  the  young 
American.  The  interview  was  short ;  but  Warwick  as  he  re- 
tired was  inly  sensible,  though  he  did  not  stop  to  analyze  the 
feeling,  that  the  large  liquid  eyes  of  the  daughter  of  Spain,  as 
they  rested  on  him,  had  sent  their  subtile  influences  through 
him,  and  stirred  electrical  currents  within  which  had  never 
been  awakened  before. 

Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  on  finding  himself  face  to  face 
with  the  man  who  had  saved  his  life,  poured  out  his  thanks 
with  a  fluency  of  rhetoric  which  would  admit  of  no  stay.  He 
hung  a  purse  of  gold  on  the  arm  of  his  overwhelmed  bene- 
factor, and  insisted  on  his  retaining  it,  until  the  young  Amer- 
ican driven  to  the  wall,  and  at  length  recovering  his  presence 
of  mind  and  his  tongue,  was  compelled  to  take  refuge  in  the 


46  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEK 

conscious  dignity  of  his  character  and  position.  Elevating 
his  tall  and  graceful  person  to  the  utmost,  he  politely  thanked 
the  Spaniard,  but  proudly  declined  to  avail  himself  of  his 
generosity.  Don  Ferdinand  found  himself  silenced  and  sur- 
prised. He  was  evidently  incapable  of  comprehending  the 
young  soldier,  but  Michael  Johnson,  who  was  present,  re- 
garded the  transaction  with  a  gratification  which  he  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal. 


THE  WSECESBS.      A  NIGHT-FIBE   UPON  THE   BEEP. 


'  The  panther  leaped  to  the  front  of  his  lair, 
And  Btood  with  a  foot  up  and  snufifed  the  air." 


THE  inhabitants  of  that  portion  of  New  Jersey  at  the  period 
of  which  we  write  were  the  progenitors  of  the  later  inter- 
esting dwellers  on  that  coast,  and  possessed,  even  at  that 
early  day,  most  of  those  inestimable  qualities  as  wreckers 
which  their  sons  have  since  so  admirably  exhibited. 

On  the  day  following  the  night  when  the  galleon  was 
stranded,  there  was  a  constant  ingathering  of  the  people  round 
about,  attracted  by  the  exciting  intelligence  of  a  ship  ashore, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  conveyed  inland,  and  up  and 
down  the  coast,  to  every  hill  and  valley,  and  into  every 
fisherman's  hut  with  a  facility  truly  surprising.  By  noon  a 
large  number  had  congregated,  mostly  hale,  weather-beaten 
men,  clad  in  homespun,  and  of  rough  and  unprepossessing  ex- 
terior, but  who,  from  their  habits  of  exposure  and  familiarity 
with  the  dangers  of  the  coast,  were  prepared  to  render  effi- 
cient service  in  the  work  now  in  hand.  It  had  been  determ- 
ined to  unload  the  vessel,  as  much  for  the  safety  of  her  valu- 
able cargo,  as  from  the  hope  that  by  lightening  her  she  might 
again  be  got  afloat  at  some  favorable  period  of  high  tide,  and 
the  work  was  already  bravely  under  way.  With  the  assist- 
ance of  all  these  fresh  arrivals,  each  one  of  whom  at  once 


48  CAMP  FIRES   OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

turned  in  without  waiting  to  be  solicited,  as  though  the  busi- 
ness of  clearing  the  wreck  was  but  a  sort  of  pastime,  by 
night  a  large  portion  of  the  cargo  of  the  galleon  had  been  re- 
moved safely  to  the  cliffs,  and  thence  to  the  outhouses  of  the 
hotel,  or  secured  under  canvas  coverings,  which  it  had  been 
found  necessary  to  erect,  not  only  for  this  purpose,  but  also 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  sailors,  and  the  very  numerous 
retinue  of  the  two  Spanish  gentlemen. 

Warwick  was  well  aware  of  the  unenviable  reputation  of 
the  inhabitants  of  this  coast,  and  early  took  occasion  to  place 
the  Spaniards  on  their  guard.  But  whatever  might  be  the 
character  of  the  people,  but  little  it  seemed,  with  a  reason- 
able vigilance,  should  be  apprehended  from  them,  as  the  forces 
of  the  wrecked  vessel  altogether  numbered  a  hundred  and  fifty 
well-armed  men  :  and  Don  Manuel  smiled,  and  Don  Ferdinand 
laughed  aloud  with  scorn,  at  the  idea  of  damage  to  themselves 
or  their  goods  from  the  untrained  and  unarmed  rabble  among 
whom  they  had  fallen.  Some  little  pilfering  of  small  articles 
in  the  transfer  of  the  goods  to  their  receptacles  on  shore 
would  occur  of  course,  but  this  was  the  utmost,  in  their 
opinion,  that  was  to  be  feared. 

Early  in  the  evening,  refreshments  from  the  ship's  stores 
were  bountifully  distributed  among  the  throng,  and  all  those 
who  had  done  service  were  liberally  rewarded  and  dismissed. 
But  they  showed  no  inclination  to  depart.  They  loitered 
around  the  grounds  and  among  the  goods,  laughing  and  crack- 
ing hard  jokes  on  the  Spaniards,  all  the  harder,  indeed,  from 
the  consciousness  that  they  were  not  understood.  At  length 
a  few  of  them  became  boisterous,  were  irritable,  and  assumed 
a  dissatisfied  air,  as  though  the  strangers  had  wronged  them. 
But  as  the  evening  wore  away  they  fell  off  in  small  parties, 
and  by  midnight  few,  save  those  who  belonged  to  the  establish- 
ment of  the  publican,  remained.  All  became  quiet.  The 
winds  were  at  rest,  the  sea  was  still  and  smooth,  and  the  ship- 


TEE   WRECKERS.  49 


wrecked  and  tired  sons  of  Spain  east  thus,  by  a  cruel  fortune, 
on  the  inhospi'able  shores  of  the  New  World,  disposed 
themselves  to  sleep. 

At  this  period  there  came  a  cry  from  the  sentinels  that  the 
galleon  was  on  fire  ;  and, the  worn-out  wretches  who  had  but 
just  relaxed  their  limbs,  and  embalmed  their  senses  in  the 
calm  of  slumber,  sprung  to  their  feet  again,  rushed  out  upon 
the  night,  and  turned  their  dim,  bewildered  eyes  on  the  ocean. 
The  flames  were  evidently  but  just  kindled,  and  by  their  light 
the  forms  of  meii  were  to  be  seen  skulking  about  on  her  decks. 
Captain  Pandriel  was  confounded,  for  until  this  moment  he 
had  indulged  the  strongest  hopes  of  saving  his  gallant  ship. 
He  rushed  to  the  cliffs  ;  and  as  his  men  gathered  around  him 
he  gave  full  vent  to  his  rage,  and  called  down  on  the  perpe- 
trators of  the  dastardly  deed  the  direst  imprecations.  The 
sailors  echoed  his  half-coherent  ravings,  but  as  the  fire  made 
headway,  and  spread  into  diflferent  parts  of  the  vessel,  anger 
was  at  last  fairly  overmastered  by  grief:  they  became  mute 
and  motionless,  like  staring  statues,  save  that  real  tears 
trickled  down  their  swarthy  faces.  It  was  indeed  the  funeral 
pile  of  their  dearest,  and  to  some  of  them  of  their  oldest, 
friend. 

Don  Manuel  beheld  this  rascally  proceeding  of  the  Jersey- 
men  with  less  apparent  feeling,  but  his  movements  were  more 
effective.  He  ordered  a  gun  which  had  been  taken  from  the 
wreck  to  be  stationed  on  the  cliffs,  and  soon  the  shot  went 
rattling  among  the  decks  and  timbers  of  the  galleon.  Not 
anticipating  a  salute  of  this  nature,  the  pirates  were  taken  by 
surprise.  They  dropped  their  plunder  and  fled  for  their  boats  ; 
but  two  of  them  at  least  were  stopped  in  their  retreat.  They 
were  seen  to  fall  back  on  the  deck,  there  to  await  the  approach 
of  the  fire  themselves  had  helped  to  kindle.  The  boats  push- 
ed off  toward  a  clump  of  islands  lying  a  little  to  the  south. 
The  gun  was  again  pointed,  and  this  time  by  Don  Manuel 

3 


50  UAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

himself ;  and  as  the  shot  struck,  one  of  them  was  capsized, 
and  every  soul  on  board  went  down.  The  other  boats,  aided 
by  the  increased  distance  and  the  darkness,  escaped. 

The  flames,  ma^anwhile,  progressed  with  fearful  rapidity, 
seizing  on  the  pitch  and  other  comb^tibles  plentifully  at  hand, 
and  soon  extended  throughout  the  body  of  the  vessel.  Then 
they  burst  upon  the  upper  decks,  and  still  mounting  aloft, 
leaped  from  rope  to  rope  and  spar  to  spar,  and  enveloped  the 
towering  masts,  until  the  whole  ship  to  its  utmost  height  was 
a  body  of  fire.  The  night  was  dark  and  calm  ;  hardly  a 
breath  stirred  the  heavens ;  and  the  flames  arose  to  their 
utmost  altitude  in  an  unwaving  column.  The  dense,  black 
smoke  from  the  burning  pitch  piled  itself  still  above,  and 
slowly  rolled  off"  over  the  ocean.  Soon  the  smaller  spars  be- 
gan to  fall,  and  ere  long  the  masts  tottered,  and  one  by  one 
plunged  over  into  the  sea.  Within  a  very  brief  period  from 
the  time  the  fire  was  discovered,  the  splendid  four-decked 
galleon,  which  for  many  years  had  done  good  service — had 
safely  borne  most  princely  freights  of  ingots,  silks,  and  spices 
in  the  commerce  between  Spain  and  her  colonies — lay  a 
smoldering,  blackened,  and  shapeless  hulk  on  the  water. 

During  this  sudden  and  exciting  scene,  all  those  to  whom 
the  duty  had  been  assigned  of  standing  sentry  over  the  goods, 
as  well  as  the  others,  had  rushed  to  the  cliflfs.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, was  discovered  to  be  wrong  with  their  respective  charges 
until  morning  ;  then,  indeed,  it  was  perceived  that  one  of 
their  most  valuable  depots  had  been  rifled  of  a  large  portion 
of  its  contents,  and  thus  the  entire  plot  of  the  jivreckers, 
which,  it  must  be  confessed,  had  been  laid  with  great  shrewd- 
ness, became  apparent. 

On  the  discovery  of  the  robbery,  no  one  expressed  greater 
surprise  and  regret  than  the  publican.  Indeed,  his  rage  was 
quite  beyond  bounds  at  the  occurrence,  which  had  taken  place 
immediately  under  his  nose,  and  on  his  own  grounds.     He 


THE  WRECKERS.  5l 


mounted  his  horse,  and  spent  some  hours  in  an  endeavor  to 
track  the  plunderers  ;  but  his  efforts  failed.  The  goods  were 
never  recovered. 

It  may  surprise  some  to  know  that,  within  a  week  after  the 
Spanish  party  had  taken  its  departure,  many  of  the  most  valu- 
able articles  they  had  lost  were  openly  exposed  to  observation 
in  the  house  of  the  landlord  himself.  But  should  any  one 
conclude  that  this  worthy  individual  risked  his  own  life  to 
save  these  strangers  from  drowning  that  he  might  afterward 
rob  them,  he  would  do  him  great  injustice.  The  conduct  of 
the  publican  but  illustrates  a  common  principle  of  every-day 
affairs.  Men  help  each  other  one  day,  and  steal  from  one 
another  the  next,  according  to  the  impulse  of  the  hour. 
Whatever  way  we  turn,  robbery,  legal  or  illegal — by  unjust 
prices,  frauds,  or  pitfalls  of  the  law — meet  us  at  every  hand. 
Charity  and  love  also  abound;  but  those  of  us  who  most 
strive  to  do  well,  fall  often  and  disgracefully  before  tempta- 
tion ;  while  it  can  not  be  doubted  that  the  highwayman,  should 
he  discover  his  victim  in  imminent  and  unexpected  danger  at 
the  moment  of  his  assault  upon  his  life,  would  rescue  him 
even  at  the  peril  of  his  own.  Thus  are  weakness  and  strength, 
selfishness  and  generosity,  the  angel  and  the  devil,  com- 
mingled in  mankind. 

In  the  present  condition  of  society,  notwithstanding  the 
advancement  of  the  last  half  century,  with  which  we  flatter 
and  console  ourselves,  good  and  evil  are  not  yet  assorted  ; 
neither  have  we  yet  arrived  at  a  point  where,  as  a  race,  we 
perceive  with  any  clear  discrimination  the  difference  between 
these  two  conflicting  elements.  But  a  better  day  is  dawning  ; 
the  morning  of  it  is  even  now  flooding  us  with  its  golden  light, 
in  which  the  past  and  the  future,  and  all  needed  principles  and 
things,  will  appear  clearly  to  our  vision ;  when  mankind  will 
acknowledge  a  common  brotherhood ;  and  man  will  learn  what 
love  for  his  neighbor  means.     The  next  ten  years  seem  likely 


62  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

to  do  more  to  illuminate  and  improve  the  world  than  the  pre- 
ceding decade  of  centuries. 

Warned  by  the  destruction  of  their  vessel  and  the  plunder 
of  their  property,  the  Spaniards  determined  to  lose  no  time  in 
effecting  their  escape  from  the  neighborhood  of  men  so  much 
more  cruel  than  the  sea.  Don  Manuel  and  his  daughter, 
therefore,  at  once  accompanied  Charles  and  Mistress  War- 
virick  to  New  York,  where  they  were  very  shortly  joined  by 
the  rest  of  the  Spanish  party,  together  with  such  effects  and 
merchandise  from  the  rich  lading  of  the  galleon  as  were 
finally  saved  from  the  rapacity  of  the  Barnegat  oystermen. 


^ltx  (Bx^\t 


THE    3PAKIARDS     IN    NEW    YORK. 
"  Ye  men  of  Spain,  hurrah  I" 

AS  gentlemen  of  rank,  who  had  suffered  by  stress  at  sea, 
and  been  cast  perforce  on  the  hospitality  of  the  Colonies, 
the  noble  Spaniards  were  cordially  received  at  JS^ew  York. 
Especially  when  it  was  whispered  about,  as  by  some  means 
soon  happened,  that  Don  Manuel  Torriilo  was  an  officer  of 
considerable  renown,  and  stood  high  in  the  esteem  and  con* 
fidence  of  the  Spanish  crown,  was  he  treated  with  singular 
tokens  of  respect.  Even  the  Governor  of  the  Colony  of  New 
York  and  the  city  functionaries  took  every  occasion  to  court 
his  acquaintance,  and  to  express  their  great  consideration  for 
him  in  a  marked  and  public  manner. 

Indeed,  simply  as  a  man,  the  noble  Spaniard  furnished  in 
his  person  a  very  favorable  specimen  of  the  race.  Tall  and 
well  set,  his  bust  and  limbs  were  full,  and  fashioned  after  the 
most  classic  model.  His  complexion,  to  be  sure,  was  south- 
ern, but  it  was  pure,  and  relieved  by  his  still  darker  hair ; 
while  his  large  black  eyes  and  fine,  but  not  too  heavy,  upper 
head,  formed  a  fitting  base  and  accompaniment  to  the  frank 
and  benevolent  expression  of  his  countenance.  This  ad- 
vantageous personal  appearance  was  well  sustained  by  his 
deportment.  In  his  intercourse  with  the  citizens  of  New 
York,  Don  Manuel  was  dignified  but  cordial,  and  exhibited,  in 
a  very  favorable  manner,  the  stores  of  a  well-balanced  and 
cultivated  mind. 


54  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN, 

Such,  however,  in  most  respects,  was  not  his  friend  and 
companion.  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  was  still  a  young 
man,  having  as  yet  passed  his  majority  but  by  a  very  few 
years.  He  was  smaller  in  stature  and  thinner  in  person  than 
his  senior,  and  though  certainly  well  educated,  and  not  lacking 
in  intelligence,  from  some  not  very  easily  defined  cause,  he 
was  unpleasing.  At  first  glance  it  was  apparent  that  frills  and 
mustaches  were  to  him  matters  of  very  grave  concern,  and 
yet  that  frills  and  mustaches  were  nothing,  only  as  connected 
with  Don  Ferdinand  himself.  But  if  haughty  and  selfish,  he 
was,  nevertheless,  strictly  a  gentleman,  according  to  the 
established  code  of  the  world,  and  as  a  foreign  nobleman  and 
the  friend  of  Don  Manuel  he  was  everywhere  well  received 
and  often  courted ;  while  there  were  those,  and  the  number 
was  not  small,  who  regarded  the  obvious  blemishes  in  his 
character  as  so  many  enviable  certificates  of  the  chevalier's 
high  breeding. 

•  But  aside  from  the  consideration  of  rank  and  personal  en- 
dowments, there  was  much  of  novelty  to  the  New  Yorkers  in 
having  among  them  a  brace  of  undoubted  Spanish  grandees ; 
and  these,  not  to  do  discredit  to  their  name  and  country,  had 
taken  an  elegant  mansion  in  a  fashionable  part  of  the  city,  and 
fitted  it  up  with  great  splendor,  where  they  were  surrounded 
by  their  bustling  menials,  whose  numbers  and  servile  devotion 
to  their  superiors  gave  to  the  establishment  an  appearance  of 
state  to  which  the  colonists  in  their  simplicity  were  little  ac- 
customed, and  some,  it  may  be,  were  attracted  in  their  atten- 
tions by  the  beauty  and  gentle  bearing  of  the  child-like  Lady 
Viola. 

It  will  readily  be  supposed  that  the  intercourse  between  the 
Warwicks  and  the  Spanish  party  was  soon  established  on  the 
most  familiar  footing.  Indeed,  as  they  were  thrown  together 
at  the  moment  when  the  latter  first  touched  the  American 
shore,  and  together  journeyed  to  New  York,  so  now,  although 


THE  SPAmARDS  IN  NEW  YORK.  65 

occupying  separate  domestic  establishments,  they  were  hardly- 
more  apart.  The  Lady  Viola,  during  the  late  distressing  oc- 
currences, had  learned  to  cling  to  Mistress  Warwick  with  a 
Bort  of  filial  affection  ;  while  Charles  Warwick,  if  not  attached 
to  the  young  lady's  father  by  a  bond  precisely  similar,  found 
himself,  nevertheless,  deeply  interested  in  the  person  and 
fortunes  of  that  noble  gentleman,  who  cordially  and  warmly  re- 
ciprocated the  sentiment. 

Besides  Johnson  the  American,  whose  plain  common  sense 
never  wearied,  and  who,  from  some  cause,  was  admitted  to  an 
equality  in  the  house  of  the  Spaniards,  to  which  his  sphere  in 
life  could  not  be  held  to  entitle  him,  there  were,  appertaining 
to  that  establishment,  a  fat,  jovial  priest,  known  as  Signor 
Antonio,  and  a  grave  follower  of  Esculapius,  called  Doctor 
Oquetos,  both  of  whom  were  much  addicted  to  learned  and 
instructive  conversation. 

But,  notwithstanding  the  various  attractions  of  the  male 
coterie  daily  to  be  found  at  the  brilliant  reception-rooms  of 
these  foreign  gentlemen,  increased,  as  they  often  were,  by  the 
addition  of  half  the  learning  and  logic  of  the  town,  Charles 
Warwick,  with  alarming  frequency,  became  forgetful  of  them 
all,  and  on  coming  to  himself  would  discover  that  he  was  by 
the  side  of  the  Lady  Viola,  and  that  he  had  been  listening  to 
her  soft  guitar,  and  softer  voice  and  broken  English,  and  look- 
ing, all  too  deeply,  into  her  sweet  eyes.  He  would  color  and 
correct  his  error,  but  only  to  repeat  it.  Possessed,  as  he  was, 
of  an  inquiring  mind,  it  will  create  no  surprise,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case,  that  this  j^oung  and  ardent  American 
ere  long  was  seized  with  a  laudable  ambition  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  Spanish  language,  as  well  as  endowed 
with  a  wonderful  faculty  in  expounding  the  mysteries  of  his 
own  tongue.  What  could  Viola  do  but  become  his  instructress 
and  pupil? 

It  was  nowthaf  the  tables  became  strewn  with  the  mingled 


56  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  ^N. 

literature  and  classics  of  the  two  nations  ;  grammars,  lexicons, 
and  other  rudimentary  books,  with  Shakespeare  and  Lopez, 
Milton  and  Cervantes.  Nor  were  Don  Manuel  and  Ferdinand 
uninterested  spectators  of  the  wondrous  labors  which  suc- 
ceeded. The  former  had  long  been  familiar  with  Englishmen 
and  English  literature,  and  admired  both,  and  made  no  secret 
of  his  admiration.  Don  Ferdinand,  on  the  contrary,  though 
ever  ready  to  pay  lavish  court  to  British  rank  and  power,  in 
his  heart  reviled  Englishmen  and  all  their  works.  With  him 
there  was  no  country  but  Spain,  no  people  but  the  Spanish, 
and  no  language  fit  for^the  poet,  the  historian,  the  orator,  or 
the  gentleman,  but  the  Castilian.  And  yet,  from  some  unex- 
plained motive,  he  very  shortly  joined  Warwick  and  the  Lady 
Yiola  in  their  studies.  No  lesson  was  conned  which  did  not 
witness  the  presence  of  the  chevalier,  augmenting  the  party 
into  a  trio,  without  particularly  enhancing  the  interest,  at  least 
to  the  other  male  member  of  the  class.  Nor  was  the  har- 
mony of  the  sittings  increased  by  the  addition.  Before,  all 
flowed  smoothly  as  a  summer  sea ;  now,  critical  questions 
were  raised  at  every  turn,  and  the  Spaniard  seemed  bent  on 
measuring  his  scholarship  and  powers  with  those  of  the  young 
American.  From  these  conflicts  he  did  not  always  escape 
unscathed.  Though  well  schooled,  his  impetuosity  led  him 
sometimes  to  take  his  ground  without  properly  measuring  his 
distances,  and  a  disastrous  overthrow  was  the  result.  In  the 
end  he  was  taught  a  valuable  lesson  of  prudence,  and  com- 
pelled to  respect  the  rival  whom,  had  it  not  been  for  the  deep 
obligation  under  which  he  lay  to  him,  he  would  have  openly 
affected  to  despise.  .  ^ 


C^ajjtu   "giut 


WARWICK  FINDING  HIMSELF  IN  LOVE,  SEEKS  BELIEF  IN  POETBY. 


'  We  call  thee  hither,  entrancing  power  I 
Spirit  of  love  I  spii-it  of  blUs  1" 


NOTWITHSTANDING  the  devotion  of  Warwick  to  the 
■^^  study  of  the  Spanish,  and  of  the  Lady  Viola  and  Don 
Ferdinand  to  the  English,  these  pursuits  were  not  suffered  to 
interfere  with  the  free  enjoyment  of  the  good  society  of  the 
city.  The  presence  of  the  strangers  had  infused  new  spirit, 
into  the  elite  of  the  town ;  and  calls  and  compliments,  parties 
and  balls,  intermixed  with  rides  to  Brooklyn  and  Hoboken,  or 
other  rural  sites  or  points  of  interest,  followed  each  other  in  a 
continuous  round. 

Weeks  thus  passed  away ;  and  however  much  Warwick 
was  fascinated  with  the  life  he  led,  he  very  shortly  discovered 
that  it,  too,  had  its  drawbacks.  He  perceived  that  there  was 
indeed  some  serious  cause  of  disturbance  between  himself  and 
Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino.  As  yet  he  had  not  stopped  to 
inquire  what  it  was.  For  himself,  he  was  quite  certain  that, 
aside  from  dragging  that  gentleman  from  the  surf  somewhat 
roughly,  he  had  always  treated  him  with  the  utmost  courtesy  and 
respect  ;  indeed,  he  had  been  jealous  of  himself  in  that  par- 
ticular, and  had  even  subjected  his  inner  man  to  a  severe  scru- 
tiny, in  order  to  make  sure  that  he  had  given  the  chevalier  full 
credit  for  all  the  good  qualities  he  possessed  ;  and  though  con- 
stantly annoyed  by  Ferdinand's  presence  at  his  elbow,  when- 


58  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

ever  he  had  particular  reasons  for  wishing  him  elsewhere,  and 
especially  when  he  was  in  conversation  with  Viola,  he  was 
certain  he  had  borne  it  all  with  exemplary  patience,  and  had_ 
exhibited  in  return  no  word  or  look  of  displeasure.  But  Don 
Ferdinand  was  not  so  well  schooled.  He  soon  became  irri- 
table, then  captious,  and 'finally  morose.  It  was  easy  to  per- 
ceive that  a  positive  rupture  was  impending. 

A  little  reflection  was  sufficient  to  expose  to  Warwick  the 
secret  of  the  Spaniard's  conduct.  He  discovered  that  he  him- 
self, however  well  he  might  succeed  in  concealing  it,  was  par- 
ticularly nettled  whenever  that  gentleman  came  between  him 
and  the  Lady  Viola  ;  and  furthermore,  that  an  exchange  of 
position  produced  a  similar  effect  on  Don  Ferdinand,  which 
that  individual  lacked  either  the  tact  or  the  inclination  to  dis- 
guise. From  this  discovery,  or,  to  speak  mathematically, 
from  these  premises,  the  corollary  unavoidably  followed,  that, 
for  some  reason,  the  society  of  the  fair  Andalusian  was  very 
agreeable  to  both  of  them.  As  for  himself,  he  had  found  from 
sad  experience  that  his  lessons  were  neglected,  unless  his  ex- 
cellent instructress  was  by  his  side  to  prompt  him  on  to  ef- 
fort ;  that  in  her  absence  he  forgot  his  books,  and  sat  and 
mused,  and  drew  pictures  in  the  air,  of  what  he  hardly  knew, 
or  cared,  if  she  were  there.  It  was  thus  that  he  could  restore 
her  to  his  presence  ;  and  without  her  he  felt  lost,  adrift  on  the 
sea  of  life,  without  a  helm  or  anchor.  All  young  men,  especi- 
ally imaginative  young  men,  until  disappointment  clips  the 
wings  of  hope,  dream  dreams  of  glorious  fabric.  To  them  the 
future  is  a  realm  of  light,  and  love,  and  beauty.  No  landscape 
greets  the  sight  but  what  has  flowers,  and  running  streams, 
and  birds,  and  skies  without  a  cloud.  A  gentle  rain  may  fall 
to  wet  the  grass,  and  scatter  pearls  upon  the  violets  and  dia- 
monds on  the  leaves  ;  but  storms  do  never  come. 

Charles  Warwick  was  a  dreamer  of  this  sort,  and  now  more 
than  ever ;  and  as  he  dreamed,  each  scene  that  passed  before 


LOVE  AND  POETRY.  59 


his  view  had  one  peculiar  feature.  No  garden  walk,  no  hill, 
no  tangled  wood,  no  future  home  for  him,  no  point  of  time 
from  youth  to  helpless  age,  moved  over  the  mental  screen, 
and  he  a  part,  but  Viola,  too,  was  there.  He  looked  yet  on  to 
spheres  of  better  hope,  where  angel  forms  float  in  the  blue 
serene  or  walk  unfading  fields  :  she  .still  was  there,  an  angel 
by  his  side,  a  part  of  his  own  life,  to  love,  to  cheer — her  hand 
in  his,  her  soft  eyes  blessing  him. 

But  as  he  dreamed  and  quaffed  unconsciously  draughts  of 
bewitching  sweetness,  and  spent  his  days  in  purple  groves 
fanned  by  the  perfumed  air,  where  love  made  all  the  music, 
and  changed  all  shapes  to  forms  of  joy  and  beauty,  to  others 
he  often  seemed  strange  and  sad.  Mistress  Warwick  was 
alarmed,  until  she  guessed  the  cause. 

As  they  arose  from  the  breakfast-table  one  morning,  at  which 
the  young  gentleman  had  already  exhibited  some  startling 
signs  of  aberration  of  intellect,  Mistress  Warwick  inquired  if 
they  should  not  ride/ 

"  I  think  she  would,"  replied  he,  gazing  into  ^racancy.  "  The- 
day  bids  fair." 

"  We  will  call,  then,  and  take  her  up,"  added  the  lady  smil- 
ing.    "  Which  way  shall  we  drive  ?" 

"  Any  way  you  like,  mother  ;  I  am  not  particular — the  moon 
is  up,  the  silver  stars  are  set." 

"  Did  you  stop  at  the  Post  Office  when  you  were  out,  my 
dear  ?"  said  the  lady. 

"  No,  mother,"  he  replied ;  "  what  would  you  like  ?  a  duck, 
or  a  nice,  fish,  for  dinner  ?" 

"  Why,  Charles  !"  exclaimed  the  good  matron,  "  how  ver}  - 
absent  you  are  !     You  quite  alarm  me." 

"Why,  what  did  I  say,  and  what  did  you  inquire  about, 
mother  ?" 

"  I  asked  about  the  Post  Office,  my  son,  and  not  about  the 
market  at  all." 


60  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

"  Oh,  ah  !"  stammered  Charles.  '  My  wits  must  have  been 
wool-gathering  indeed.  This  studying  Spanish,  since  I  am 
out  of  the  habit  of  study,  is  confusing  me,  I  think." 

"  You  must  not  study  so  hard,  my  son,"  said  the  lady  kind- 
ly. "  But  are  you  quite  certain  that  it  is  the  language  V  and 
she  looked  sharply  into  his  eyes.  "  Is  it  not  rather  the  Span- 
ish lady,  my  dear  ?" 

Warwick  blushed  like  a  girl. 

"  Do  not  feel  abashed,  my  son,"  continued  this  ancient 
maiden,  in  a  voice  hardly  above  a  whisper,  and  which  barely 
escaped  being  tremulous,  but  at  the  same  time  was  peculiarly 
distinct ;  "  the  feeling  is  a  holy  one." 

"  You  have  experienced  it,  then,  mother  ?" 

"  Who  that  had  a  heart  ever  escaped  ?"  said  the  lady  quickly, 
and  with  increasing  agitation.  "  It  is  the  law  of  our  being  ; 
but  it  runs  not  always  smoothly."  She  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  then  added :  "  Viola  is  worthy,  but  have  a  care  for  your- 
self, Charles.  I  see  trouble  in  the  distance  ;  and  dearly  as 
I  love  you,  I  do  not  bid  you  shun  it.  Be  wary  of  Don  Fer- 
dinand. Be  prudent ;  but  with  manliness  and  strength,  and 
God's  blessing,  go  on,  and  win  the  prize  you  covet." 

The  aged  matron  closed  with  the  apparent  inspiration  of  a 
pythoness,  and  sinking  into  a  chair  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  Remarkable  for  little  else  save  the  strength  of  her 
affections,  it  had  been  many  years  since  she  had  exhibited  an 
energy  at  all  comparable  to  this.  Warwick  was  surprised,  and 
pleased,  and  grieved.  He  perceived  that  she  had  scanned  his 
case — the  present  and  the  future — with  an  eye  far  steadier  and 
clearer  "than  his  own.  He  was  glad  to  understand  his  posi- 
tion, to  have  the  floating  visions  of  his  mind  reduced  to  form. 
He  perceived  that  he  had  found  a  confidant  and  wise  adviser 
where  least  he  had  expected  it ;  but  he  was  grieved  to  know 
that  one  so  dear  to  him,  through  long,  long  years  of  loneliness, 
had  nourished  in  her  breast  a  fount  of  hidden  sorrow.     He 


LOVE  AND  POETRY.  61 


sat  down  beside  her ;  and  the  young  man,  burdened  with  his 
first  love,  and  the  gray-haired  woman,  unbosomed  themselves 
to  each  other. 

The  occasional  rudenesses  and  belligerent  glances  of  Don 
Ferdinand,  latterly  becoming  more  marked  and  frequent,  had 
not  escaped  the  observation  of  the  Ijady  Viola ;  on  the  con- 
trary, they  had  become  to  her  a  source  of  evident  embarrass- 
ment. Sometimes,  with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  friend,  she 
would  playfully  check  him  ;  while  with  great  discretion  she 
divided  her  attention  between  the  two  gentlemen,  and  watch- 
fully, but  delicately,  sought  to  palliate  whatever  unpleasant 
circumstances,  at  any  time,  might  arise.  Nothing  else,  save 
this  irritability  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniard,  had  ever  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  Warwick  to  lead  him  to  suppose  that  that 
mdividual  made  any  pretensions  affecting  in  any  manner  the 
fortunes  of  the  Lady  Viola.  True,  he  knew  little  about  the 
private  affairs  of  his  foreign  friends  ;  and  whatever  he  did 
know,  they  themselves  had  informed  him.  He  had  thus  been 
told  that  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  accompanied  Don  Manuel 
as  his  friend ;  and  he  found  himself  little  inclined  to  suppose 
any  thing  further. 

If  any  one  has  imagined  for  a  moment,  because  our  hero 
has  shown  himself  apt  and  prudent,  generous  and  brave  ;  a 
youth  guided  in  his  ways  by  a  conscious  sense  of  integrity 
and  right,  that  he  was  therefore  above  the  common  weaknesses 
of  human  nature,  he  has  much  mistaken  him.  We  have  con- 
fessed that  in  the  short  period  of  a  few  weeks  he  became 
nearly  demented  with  love,  and  hardly  knew  it,  until  the  probe 
of  his  experienced  maiden-mother  laid  his  bosom  bare  that  he 
might  see  it.  He  had  still  another  weakness  of  a  graver  cast. 
He  was  occasionally  a  devotee  of  the  muses.  He  found  feel- 
ings within  himself  crying  aloud  for  utterance,  and  he  gave 
them  voice,  as  the  unseen  monitor  directed. 

Poetry  has  been  called  the  language  of  passion.    It  is,  more 


62  CAMP  FIEES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

properly,  the  ideal  of  the  real,  and  the  real  of  the  ideal,  or  em.' 
hodiment  of  the  spiritual.  It  clothes  the  material  world  with 
new  and  undiscovered  beauty,  lifting  common  things  up  into 
sunshine  and  loveliness.  It  endows  the  immaterial,  the  in- 
tangible, with  form  and  substance,  that  we  may  catch  and  hold 
it.  Its  office  is  to  raise  our  thoughts  and  aspirations,  to  clear 
away  the  grossnesses  which  surround  us,  and  set  high  stand- 
ards up  at  which  we  all  may  aim. 

^ut  the  world  adjudges  poetry  a  weakness ;  and  in  accord- 
ance with  the  sentiment,  we  are  forced  to  say  that  Charles 
Warwick  being  in  a  mood  favorable  For  the  exhibition  of  his 
weak  points,  to  his  great  subsequent  perplexity  and  discom- 
fort fell  into  it.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  following  his 
eclair cissement  with  his  mother,  on  calling  at  the  mansion  of 
his  friends,  h^  unexpectedly  found  the  Lady  Viola  alone.  She 
received  him  with  great  cordiality,  and  he  noticed  with  pleas- 
ure that  a  certain  restraint  too  frequently  observable  in  Don 
Ferdinand's  presence  had  now  entirely  vanished.  As  he  took 
her  hand  in  his,  she  smiled,  and  turned  her  eloquent  eyes  in- 
quiringly into  his  face. 

It  will  surprise  none  of  the  initiated  to  know  that  Warwick 
found  himself  at  the  moment  unable  to  reply  to  this  familiar 
greeting.  He  therefore  led  her  silently  to  a  chair  ;  and  hav- 
ing arranged  her  dictionary  and  grammar  for  use,  in  his  capa- 
city of  instructor,  he  gave  her  the  following  lines  to  translate 
into  Spanish  : 

I  love  a  bright  and  beaming  eye, 

And  thine,  though  ebon  as  the  night, 

Though  round  the  dreamy  lashes  lie, 
Are  like  two  gems  of  light. 

Adown  thy  neck  in  raven  rings 

The  silken  tresses  wildly  play ;  » 

While  in  thy  voice  the  linnet  sings 

His  loving  roundelay. 


LOVE  AND  POETRY.  63 


Thy  brow  is  pure  as  ocean  pearl, 

Thy  cheeks  are  where  the  roses  blow ; 

And  'tween  thy  red,  red  lips,  sweet  girl. 
Thy  teeth  are  like  the  snow. 

Thy  form  is  sylph-like  as  the  swan's 

When  floating  on  the  silver  sea  ; 
Thy  step  is  like  the  graceful  fawn's. 

As  gentle  and  as  free. 

Sweet  girl  of  Spain !    Love,  living  lore. 

In  every  feature  barbs  his  dart ; 
The  coursing  shafts  have  struck  a  dove — 

His  refuge  is  thy  heart. 

An  hour  was  spent  in  the  exercise  of  the  translation,  during 
which  Warwick  was  troubled  with  hot  and  cold  flashes  alter- 
nately running  over  him,  and  found  himself  much  afflicted  with 
stammering ;  while  the  Lady  Viola,  as  she  closed  the  final 
stanza  rested  her  head  gravely  and  thoughtfully  on  her  hand. 


^ttt  fen 


THE      BALL     AT     GOVERNOR     CLINTON' 


There  was  a  voice  of  revelry  by  night." 


IT  was  at  a  period  of  bland  and  balmy  airs  and  clear  skies 
that  the  lady  of  his  Britannic  Majesty's  chief  functionary 
at  New  York,  issued  cards  of  invitation  for  a  grand  gala. 
This  festivity,  it  was  understood,  had  been  planned  in  special 
honor  of  those  noble  subjects  of  his  Catholic  Majesty,  the 
King  of  Spain,  who  had  been  thrown  by  stress  at  sea  on  the 
hospitalities  of  the  city.  It  was  also  equally  understood  that 
all  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  the  town  would  be  there,  and 
that  such  display  would  be  made  as  the  city  never  had  wit- 
nessed, and,  probably,  never  would  witness  again.  Great, 
therefore,  was  the  anxiety  for  invitations ;  and  as  the  enter- 
tainment had,  in  reality,  been  got  up  on  an  extensive  scale, 
few  who  might  be  said  to  have  any  pretensions  to  such  distin- 
guished favor  were  ultimately  disappointed ;  though  Mrs. 
Pinch,  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  tobacconist,  and  Mrs.  Blond,  the 
lady  of  a  retail  fancy  dry  goods  dealer,  received  their  cards, 
for  themselves  and  daughters,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  when  hope 
had  almost  drawn  her  last  sigh,  and  time  for  due  preparation 
of  dress,  had  that  important  particular  been  neglected  so  long, 
was  totally  out  of  the  question. 

Early  in  the  evening  of  the  momentous  day,  carriages, 
mixed  with  occasional  parties  on  foot,  of  those  who  resided 
near  at  hand,  began  to  thread  the  avenues  leading   to   the 


TEE  BALL  AT  GOVERNOR  OLiyTOJPS.  65 

Government  House,  within  the  walls  of  the  Fort,  on  the  site 
now  occupied  by  the  upper  portion  of  the  Battery,  which  was 
the  residence  of  Governor  Clinton.  That  distinguished  per- 
sonage and  his  lady,  with  their  domestics,  and  a  long  train  of 
servitors  engaged  for  the  occasion,  were  on  the  alert.  What 
with  extra  exertions,  scolding  and  storming,  very  much  after 
the  manner  of  other  people,  they  had  at  length  managed  to 
get  the  affair  arranged  quite  to  their  satisfaction  ;  and  by  the 
time  their  guests  began  to  arrive,  calm  as  a  summer  morning, 
they  were  ready  to  receive  them  with  smiles  and  compliments, 
after  the  most  courtly  fashion  of  the  times. 

For  that  night  the  Governor's  mansion,  from  top  to  bottom, 
was  gayly  thrown  open  for  the  accommodation  of  his  numer- 
ous guests  ;  and  the  decoration  of  the  rooms  and  grounds,  to 
say  the  least,  was  brilliant  and  imposing.  The  walls  were 
hung  in  festoons  of  evergreens  and  flowers,  only  broken  by 
the  drapery  of  gold  and  silver  cloth,  of  crimson,  green,  and 
blue,  which  shaded  the  tali  windows.  Broad  mirrors  blazed 
among  the  fragrant  wreaths  which  twined  them,  and  threw 
back  the  light  from  costly  chandeliers,  whose  many  waxen 
candles,  set  in  the  branching  arms,  would  have  shone  all  too 
brightly  for  the  eye  but  for  the  good  green  boughs  and  rare 
transparencies  arranged  to  dim  their  luster.  Massive  plate, 
loaded  with  refreshments,  meats,  fruits,  and  condiments  to 
tempt  the  palate,  spices  to  heat  and  ices  to  cool,  were  dispos- 
ed in  magnificent  profusion  ;  while  rich  old  wines  sparkled 
in  silver  goblets,  and  choice  exotic  plants  bloomed  in  Bohe- 
mian vases,  and  breathing  their  soft  odors  through  the  apart- 
ments, took  captive  the  senses  with  their  agreeable  perfumes. 

Soon  the  guests,  in  their  richest  and  gayest  costumes,  were 
assembled  ;  fair-haired  girls  and  smiling  matrons,  the  strip- 
ling, the  soldier  in  his  gaudy  trappings',  and  the  sage  ;  and 
when  music  did  its  oflice  to  harmonize  and  enliven  the  feel- 
ings, and  the  eye  of  beauty  had  quickened  as  it  will  quicken 


66  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE    RED  MEN. 

even  the  pulses  of  age,  it  was,  indeed,  a  rare  and  bright  as- 
sembly, speaking  alone  of  the  joyousness  of  life,  without  a 
thought  of  sorrow.  W^ile  some  mingled  in  the  dance,  others, 
m  pairs,  promenaded  the  labyrinthine  rooms  ;  others,  still, 
lounged  on  the  sofas,  or  reclined  at  their  ease  within  the 
shadowy  recesses  of  some  sylvan  and  fantastic  bower.  Here, 
a  party  talked  good-natured  scandal,  and  made  their  remarks 
on  those  that  passed  them  by ;  there,  another  discussed  poli- 
tics, philosophy,  or  religion  ;  and  there,  a  little  apart  from 
all  the  rest,  a  pair  chatted  polite  and  flippant  nonsense  or 
whispered  of  love. 

"  Oh !  where  are  the  Spanish  grandees,  pray  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Blond  to  Mrs.  Pinch,  as  she  seated  herself  beside  that  lady 
on  a  velvet  sofa  ;  "  I  am  sure  I  have  seen  nothing  of  them 
yet." 

"  Why,  how  you  talk,  Mrs.  Blond !"  returned  the  complais- 
ant Mrs.  Pinch.  "  I  supposed  every  body  had  seen  them  be- 
fore this.  I  was  introduced  to  them  an  hour  ago.  There, 
look !  there  is  my  Lord  Don  Manuel,  talking  with  Mrs.  Mor- 
gan ;  and  yonder  is  my  Lord  Don  Ferdinand  Cossetto,  as  I 
think  they  call  him,  looking  —  yes,  he's  looking,  and  very 
sharply,  too — at  something." 

Mrs.  Pinch  here  changed  her  position  a  little,  and  by  the 
aid  of  a  very  long  neck,  was  able  to  satisfy  her  curiosity  as 
to  the  point  in  doubt ;  when  she  continued : 

"  He  is  looking,  Mrs.  Blond,  at  Captain  Warwick  and  the 
young  Lady  Torrillo,  who  are  dancing  together." 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Blond.  "  I  wonder  if 
those  are  tbe  Spanish  nobility  there  is  so  much  talk  about ! 
Why,  I  thought  they  were  black  !" 

"  Well,  they  don't  lack  much  of  it,"  returned  the  good- 
natured  Mrs.  Pinch,  with  a  laugh. 

"  The  gentlemen  are  rather  dark,  but  the  lady,  I  am  sure, 
is  white  enough,"  said  Mrs   Blond.     "  T  wns  very  near  her  a 


THS  BALL  AT  GOVERNOR  CLINTON'S.  67 

little  while  ago,  and  noticed  her  particularly,  though  I  did  not 
then  know  who  she  was." 

"  Her  white  has  a  little  too  much  of  an  India-ink  shading," 
said  Mrs.  Pinch.     "  She  is  very  pale  instead  of  very  white." 

"  Not  so  very  pale,  neither,"  said  Mrs.  Blond  ;  "  now  she 
is  warmed  up  with  exercise  she  has  a  fine  glow  on  her  cheeks. 
But  what  a  beautiful  cap  she  has  on !" 

"  It  is  a  sort  of  half  turban,  trimmed  with  orange-flowers 
and  diamonds,"  said  Mrs.  Pinch.  "  That  chit  of  the  aristoc- 
racy of  the  Old  World,  Mrs.  Blond,  is  decked  out  with  jewels 
enough  to-night  to  build  and  furnish  a  whole  block  of  houses." 

"  Her  eyes  are  her  best  jewels,"  said  a  gentleman,  in  a  low 
tone,  very  near  Mrs.  Pinch  ;  and  that  lady,  turning,  recognized 
in  the  speaker  one  who  belonged  to  the  ton  of  the  New  World, 
and  who,  she  perceived,  with  a  little  party  of  fashionables, 
was  sauntering  past,  and,  doubtless,  had  overheard  her  last  re- 
mark to  Mrs.  Blond.  Presuming  that  they  were*  occupied 
with  the  same  subject  of  conversation,  Mrs.  Pinch,  having  an 
inquiring  mind,  took  Mrs.  Blond  by  the  arm  and  followed  after 
them, 

When  the  two  ladies  arrived  within  hearing  distance,  it 
appeared  that  the  gentleman  whom  Mrs.  Pinch  had  recognized 
was  speaking. 

"  Nonsense  !  nonsense  !"  said*  he.  "  Let  us  have  no  com- 
mon-place strictures  here,  and  on  such  a  subject.  I  am  quite 
in  love  with  this  fair  lily  of  Andalusia,  and  am  free  to  confess 
it.  Her  manner  is  simplicity  itself ;  and  the  Oriental  cut  of 
her  dress — though  no  connoisseur  in  female  Jixables — is  to  me, 
I  acknowledge,  a  fascinating  novelty.  You  must  certainly 
ladies,  try  to  catch  it  and  bring  it  into  fashion  in  our  good  city, 
if  you  would  hereafter  hope  to  make  any  impression  on  our 
side  of  the  house.     What  say  you,  Amelia  ?" 

"  Oh,  if  you  lords  of  creation  desire  it,  we  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  submit,"  answered  Amelia  Clinton,  a  fair  daughter 


68  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

of  the  Governor,  with  bright  auburn  hair.  "  Here,  Mr. 
Gates,"  she  playfully  continued,  in  an  endeavor  to  cover  the 
very  slight  tone  of  vexation  which  had  marked  her  previous 
words  ;  "  this  handkerchief  would  make  a  turban  'fit  for  an 
Ottoman  princess,  and  you  shall  be  tire-woman  and  bind  it  on 
my  head.  Come,  now,  let  us  see  if  you  really  have  any  taste 
in  such  matters." 

"  Excellent !  excellent !"  said  Mr.  Gates  ;  and  he  proceed- 
ed to  arrange  the  embroidered  gossamer.  "  But  where  are 
the  black  curls  that  should  dance  beneath  it,  Amelia  ?" 

The  young  lady's  heart  was  now  full. 

"  Are  not  auburn  as  pretty  ?"  she  whispered,  while  a  tear 
in  spite  of  her  sprung  to  her  eye. 

"  True,  love,"  replied  Mr.  Gates,  in  the  same  low  tone, 
brought  suddenly  to  his  senses  on  perceiving  the  pain  he  had 
inflicted.  "  You  must  forgive  me  ;  I  only  admire  the  one, 
while  I  love  the  other." 

"  And  who  can  help  admiring  ?"  said  Sir  George  Carlton, 
catching  a  single  word  of  Mr.  Gates'  sentence.  "  Such  fault- 
less symmetry  ;  such  eyes  ;  such  lips  !" 

"  You  rogue  '  We  have  found  you  out,"  said  Miss  Sarah 
Grant,  quickly,  who  was  hanging  on  Sir  George's  arm. 
"  You  are  the  author  of  the  lines  in  the  "  New  York  Journal !" 
Ha  !  iia  !     You  need  not  deny  it." 

"  What  lines  ?"  eagerly  inquired  both  gentlemen  at  once. 

"  The  lines  addressed  to  the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo,  to  be 
sure,"  replied  Miss  Grant,  "  Avhich  have  made  so  much  con- 
versation in  town  to-day. 

"  I  am  always  behind  the  times,"  said  Sir  George,  with  an  air 
of  real  or  pretended  vexation.  "  I  have  not  seen  the  "  Journal" 
of  to-day,  neither  have  I  heard  any  thing  about  the  sublime 
affair  you  mention.  The  rascally  newsboy  missed  me  this 
morning,  as  usual.  If  Zenger  don't  reform  his  scamps,  I  will 
reform  my  name  from  his  list ;  and  that  shall  be  my  business 


Tim  BALL  AT  GOVERNOR   CLINTOIPS.  69 

for  to-morrow,  if  there  is  enough  left  of  me  to  crawl  to  Stone 
Street  after  the  exhausting  felicity  of  to-night." 

"  I  must  correct  your  mistake,  Sir  George,"  said  Mr.  Gates, 
"  as  I  noticed  the  "  Journal"  of  to-day  on  your  table  this  morn- 
ing when  I  called  at  your  rooms." 

"  How  happens  it,  then.  Gates,"  said  Sir  George,  with 
a  slight  degree  of  petulance,  "  that  you  are  as  ignorant  as  my- 
self in  relation  to  this  important  subject,  which  seems  to  have 
agitated  the  town  for  the  last  nine  hours  or  more  ?" 

"  Oh,  while  with  you  we  were  both  busy,  you  know,  and  I 
only  glanced  a  moment  at  your  paper.  On  returning  home, 
I  found  my  spaniel,  Ponto,  comfortably  digesting  mine  in  the 
yard,  where  the  carrier  had  thoughtfully  deposited  it  for  his 
accommt)dation. " 

"  On  the  hip,  Mr.  G^tes,  if  you  please,"  ejaculated  Major 
Van  Quirk,  a  short,  band-box  gentleman,  with  a  self-satisfied 
chuckle.  "  Your  servant  was  so  very  polite  this  morning  in 
your  absence  as  to  oblige  me  with  the  loan  of  your  paper  for 
half  an  hour,  when  I  perused  the  poem  in  question  with  much 
pleasure  ;  and,  indeed,"  feeling  in  his  pocket,  "  beg  pardon, 
but  I  find  I  have  it  still,  and  can  accommodate  you  with  a 
sight  of  the  lines." 

A  burst  of  merriment  followed  this  exposition  of  Major  Van 
Quirk,  which  at  once  restored  the  good  humor  of  all ;  and 
when  it  had  ceased,  that  person  proceeded  to  read  from  the 
*'  New  York  Journal"  of  that  day  the  lines  we  have  given  at  the 
close  of  the  preceding  chapter,  which,  under  the  tutorship  of 
Charles  Warwick,  had  furnished  not  an  uninteresting  exer- 
cise in  the  studies  of  the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo. 

When  Major  Van  Quirk  ceased  reading,  which  duty  he 
performed  with  a  firmer  emphasis,  perhaps,  than  exactly  be- 
came the  time  and  place,  each  opened  his  mouth  to  speak. 
All  remarks,  however,  were  cut  short,  for  as  the  little  coterie 
moved  from  its  posture  of  attention,  each  at  once   became 


70  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

aware  of  a  considerable  accession  to  their  numbers.  Among 
the  arrivals  were  Mrs.  Pinch,  Mrs.  Blond,  and  Don  Ferdinand 
de  Cassino. 

The  Spaniard  was  eyidently  out  of  humor,  and  stood  biting 
his  lips  with  vexation,  while  a  very  threatening  frown  ren 
lered  his  dark  countenance  still  darker.  Having  broken  ovej 
the  cold  and  polite  exterior  which  usually  marked  his  de 
meanor,  he  requested,  with  some  abruptness,  to  look  at  the 
newspaper.  Mr.  Gates,  who  had  reclaimed  it,  politely  handed 
it  to  him.  Don  Ferdinand  read  the  song  for  himself,  and 
meanwhile,  a  little  reflection  having  restored  him  to  his  self- 
possession,  he  pronounced  it  pretty,  and  inquired  in  a  careless 
tone  of  voice  if  the  author  was  known. 

"  They  say  that  Capiain  Warwick  wrote  it,"  replied  the  in- 
telligent Mrs.  Pinch. 

Don  Ferdinand  gave  a  sudden  start,  and,  with  a  deeply 
lowering  brow,  whirled  on  his  heel  to  depart,  when  Mrs. 
Pinch,  presuming  on  the  valuable  information  she  had  com- 
municated, and  her  acquaintance  of  an  hour's  standing,  with 
great  dexterity  threw  herself  in  before  him,  brought  him  to  a 
stand,  and  introduced  to  him  her  friend  and  companion,  Mrs. 
Blond. 

The  chevalier  bowed  low ;  his  breeding  was  at  stake ;  and 
smothering  his  own  angry  feelings  for  the  time,  he  entered 
into  conversation.  The  tart  remarks  of  the  well-informed  Mrs. 
Pinch  proved  to  have  for  him  a  peculiar  charm,  and  in  lively 
chat  the  three,  to  the  great  exultation  of  the  ladies,  prome- 
naded the  rooms.  At  length  Mrs.  Blond,  in  the  innocence  of 
her  nature,  exposed  the  fact  that  her  husband  was  a  trades- 
man, when  the  proud  noble,  presuming  that  the  rank  of  the 
agreeable  Mrs.  Pinch  was  no  better,  unceremoniously  shook 
them  off.  He  could  not,  however,  deprive  them  of  the  recol- 
lection of  the  honor  they  had  enjoyed  during  the  brief  period 
they  had  passed  in  his  society. 


THE  BALL  AT  OOVERKOB  CLINTOIPS.  71 

The  night  to  Charles  Warwick  was  one  of  absorbing  inter- 
est. The  Lady  Viola  Torrillo  was  there,  full  of  animation  and 
happiness,  and  evidently  not  less  so  when  with  him  than  in 
the  society  of  others.  Though  it  was  certain  that  she  gave 
him  no  exclusive  attentions,  still  her  demeanor  toward-  him 
was  of  a  kind  to  satisfy  him,  and  though  he  saw  that  toward 
Don  Ferdinand  she  was  more  solicitously  particular,  he  yet 
felt  there  was  a  difference  in  his  own  favor.  Each  look  and 
smile  spoke  an  intelligible  language  to  him,  a  language  which 
though  it  had  no  tongue  was  understood  by  the  heart. 

The  Lady  Viola  meanwhile  passed  among  the  throng  tho 
admired  of  all,  and  as  ever  the  delight  of  her  proud  and  affec- 
tionate father.  Whether  she  sat,  or  walked,  or  danced,  the 
eye  of  Don  Manuel  turned  to  her  as  to  a  magnet  and  followed 
her  like  the  eye  of  a  lover.  He  could  not  avoid  hearing  the 
praises  that  were  lavished  upon  her,  and  so,  as  a  compromise 
with  himself,  pronounced  them  the  mere  unmeaning  homage 
of  the  lip,  while  he  still  permitted  his  ear  to  drink  them  in 
with  pleasure.  In  truth  his  child  was  lovely.  Still  it  is  pos- 
sible, nay,  certain,  that  more  perfect  faces,  according  to  the 
established  notions  of  beauty,  might  have  been  found  in  that 
assembly,  and  cheeks  of  a  deeper  hue  may  be  met  with  on 
any  sunny  day  by  the  roadside.  Her  beauty  was  a  combi- 
nation of  symmetry,  expression,  and  action.  Her  form  was 
faultless,  and  her  attitudes  and  motions  full  of  grace,  but 
wholly  unpretending.  She  had  apparently  reached  that  point 
in  the  cultivation  of  manner  where  the  beginning  and  the  end 
of  the  circle  come  together  again,  and  meet  in  the  union  of 
the  simplicity  of  the  child  with  that  of  the  thorough-bred  wo- 
man. If  there  was  any  one  feature  more  than  another  in 
which  resided  her  power  over  the  hearts  of  others,  it  was  her 
eye — a  full,  liquid  orb,  which  emitted  its  rays  too  softly  to 
alarm  by  its  superior  brilliancy,  and  so  only  fascinated  those 
on  whom  it  fell.     It  was  the  window  of  her  mind,  where  all 


72  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEIT. 


her  thoughts  were  playing.  It  was  such  an  eye  as  no  clime, 
southern  or  northern,  oft  matures,  radiant  with  light  and  love 
and  soul,  and  dewy  as  the  morning — an  eye,  the  power  of 
which,  though  it  may  not  be  told,  some,  alas,  have  felt. 

But  if  Viola  was  fair,  she  seemed  to  know  it  not.  Sh 
moved  as  though  unconscious  of  the  admiring  eyes  upon  her, 
and  glided  away  from  the  praises  intended  for  her  ear.  Is  it 
not  the  retiring  and  folded  lily  that  we  go  out,  through  the 
meadow  and  by  the  streams,  to  seek,  though  all  the  flowers  of 
the  garden  are  at  hand,  courting  with  open  smiles  our  notice 
and  our  love  % 

Young  as  was  Charles  Warwick,  and  of  a  temperament  to 
feel  the  full  force  of  the  master  passion  when  aroused — and 
acknowledging  to  himself,  as  he  could  no  longer  conceal  it, 
that  the  little  divinity  of  old,  called  Love,  had  beset  him  ;  the 
object,  a  creatiire  like  Viola  — it  will  create  no  surprise  that  his 
feelings  became  wholly  absorbed  by  the  one  subject,  an'd  his 
love  the  great  question  of  his  life.  Sdll  he  had  never  spoken 
it.  To  him  words  seemed  cold  and  unmeaning,  and  the  set 
phrases  gallantry  would  have  dictated,  worse  than  mockery. 

Besides,  he  perceived  intuitively,  though  he  had  not  ac- 
knowledged it  to  himself,  that  there  was  some  mysterious 
chain  of  connection  between  the  fair  Spaniard  and  Don  Fer- 
dinand de  Cassino  which  he  did  not  understand,  "and  which, 
had  he  analyzed  his  feelings,  he  would  have  discovered  that 
he  feared  to  know,  lest  the  blissful  dream  in  which  he  was  in- 
dulging should  be  dissipated  and  lost  forever.  He  might  have 
perceived  that  though  the  glorious  vision  was  not  destined  to 
last,  with  a  coward  weakness  common  to  our  natures,  he  was 
anxious  to  prolong  it.  But  if  he  had  not  told  his  love,  and 
listened  to  the  soft  response,  was  he  not  equally  certain  that 
the  feeling  was  mutual  ?  He  felt  that  it  was,  though  no  voice 
had  given  it  utterance ;  and  as  the  strains  of  music  breathed 
around  them,  and  he  held  her  hand  in  his,  which  seemed  to 


THE  BALL  AT  GOVERNOR  CLIXTOIPS.  73 

return  a  gentle  pressure ;  or,  as  fatigued  with  dancing,  she 
leaned  confidingly  on  his  arm,  and  looked  into  his  face  and 
smiled,  she  seemed  so  exclusively  his  own,  so  much  in  her 
natural  home,  that  it  were  a  profanation  of  the  affections  to 
doubt  their  simple  language. 

It  was  at  a  moment  like  this,  when  no  curious  eye  was  on 
them ;  when  the  touch  of  her  small  white  hand  on  his  paim 
thrilled  to  his  heart  and  brain,  and  her  soft,  dreamy  eyes,  which 
had  just  been  drinking  from  his,  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  that 
Charles  Warwick  gained  courage  to  speak  of  his  love.  The  ef- 
fect on  the  Lady  Viola  was  electrical  and  strange.  She  started 
from  him  like  the  frightened  deer  from  the  hunter,  while  a 
deadly  paleness  overspread  her  face.  She  besought  him,  in  a 
few  broken  words,  as  she  sunk  into  a  seat,  to  forbear.  Alarmed 
and  abashed,  the  young  soldier  begged  her  pardon  ;  and  while 
he  offered  her  restoratives,  strove,  in  the  gentlest  manner  his 
confusion  would  allow,  to  soothe  the  agitation  he  had  so  unin- 
tentionally produced.  He  was  but  partially  successful.  For 
the  rest  of  the  evening  she  was  oppressed  with  a  weight  on 
her  spirits  which  she  in  vain  endeavored  to  shake  off;  and 
among  the  earliest  departures,  accompinied  by  her  father  and 
Dm  Ferdinand,  she  retired. 


K^ttx  ^Uiitix. 


NIGHT  ADVENTURE  ON  THE  BATTERY.     CHABAOTERISTIO  FASSAOB  WITH  AW 

EDITOR. 


"  Get  ye  to  bed  and  sleep  I 
'Tia  night,  and  dangers  lurk  beneath  the  stars. 
Wolves  are  abroad — to  bed  !  to  bed  !  and  dream. 
And  fight  the  nightmares  rather." 


THE  ball  was  ended.  One  by  one  the  carriages  rolled  away 
over  the  rattling  streets,  and  left  the  mansion  of  the  Gov- 
ernor, so  lately  the  scene  of  bustle  and  revelry,  silent  and  lone. 
Warwick  could  not  retire  to  rest.  Perplexed,  his  temples 
throbbing,  and  his  pulses  bounding  at  a  fever  pace,  he  sought 
the  open  air,  passed  hurriedly  up  Broadway  for  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  ;  then  turning  to  the  left,  he  struck  the  North  River, 
and  strolling  down  its  banks  by  the  quays,  ere  long  found  him- 
self again  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Government  House,  and  look- 
ing out  from  the  shore  over  the  quiet  Bay.  He  bared  his  fore- 
head to  the  cool  sea-breeze,  rubbed  it  with  his  hands,  and 
gazed  on  the  still  landscape  and  the  calm  moon  and  sky,  in  the 
hope  to  restore  the  equilibrium  of  his  system  and  feelings, 
which  the  various  excitements  of  the  night  had  completely 
unsettled. 

The  contemplation  of  nature  will  do  much  toward  calming 
the  most  troubled  mind.  It  is  impossible  to  look  on  the  grand 
elements  of  the  universe  around  us,  all  in  profound  repose, 
without  imbibing  something  of  their  spirit.  The  airs  that  fan 
us  cool  the  heated  blood.  The  living  stars  above  us  look 
sweetly  down,  and  though  set  thick  as  grapes  upon  the  vine^ 


A  NIOHT  AND  A  DAY  ADTENTXTRE.  TJJ 

they  jostle  not  each  other.  The  sea  has  gone  to  sleep ;  the 
earth  is  hushed  and  dreamless,  and  the  Divinity  which  inspires*' 
the  whole  is  sepn  and  felt.  It  seems  to  chide  and  whisper 
us,  as  with  the  voice  of  one  greater  than  ourselves,  to  be  at 
peace — and  trust. 

Warwick  was  not  disappointed.  He  felt  soothed  and  in- 
vigorated by  the  influence  of  the  scene,  and  in  a  better  con- 
dition for  reviewing  the  occurrences  of  the  night,  and  the  cir- 
cumstances by  which  he  was  surrounded.  Indeed,  he  had 
more  than  one  cause  of  perplexity.  First  was  the  surprising 
agitation  of  the  Lady  Viola  when  he  had  ventured  to  declare  his 
affection  for  her — a  sentimept,  on  his  part,  to  which  she  could 
not  well  have  remained  blind  up  to  that  hour,  and  which,  he  had 
many  reasons  to  believe,  was  in  reality  reciprocal.  He  feared 
her  conduct  was  in  some  way  connected  with  Don  Ferdinand; 
and  in  any  event,  it  boded  no  smooth  current  to  the  river  of 
his  hopes.  His  future  was  beset  with  rocks  and  falls  and 
quicksands,  and  his  sky  above  was  lowering  black  with  storms. 
The  disturbed  and  angry  countenance  of  Don  Ferdinand,  es- 
pecially in  the  latter  portion  of  the  evening,  had  not  escaped 
his  notice  ;  and  perceiving  that  that  individual's  evil  eye  was 
often  resting  on  him,  he  had  little  doubt  but  that  he  himself 
was  the  principal  object  of  his  disquiet.  Again,  the  appear- 
ance in  a  public  newspaper  of  the  verses  he  had  addressed  to 
the  Lady  Viola,  to  which  his  attention  had  been  repeatedly' 
called  during  the  night,  and  the  authorship  of  them  pressed  on 
him  with  many  a  knowing  laugh,  surprised  and  pained  him. 
How  they  got  there  was  beyond  his  conception ;  and  to  his 
mind  there  was  something  extremely  indelicate  in  thus  having 
thrown  open  to  the  public  gaze  the  sacred  chambers  of  his 
heart  ;  and  in  this  light,  he  felt,  Viola  would  view  it. 

While  occupied  with  these  reflections,  Warwick  had  stood 
with  his  back  resting  against  a  tree.  From  this  posture  he 
was  aroused  by  the  sudden  onset  of  a  ruffian,  who  had  gained 


76  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

his  immediate  vicinity  without  attracting  his  notice,  but  who 
now,  fortunately,  tripping  on  a  stone,  missed  his  aim,  and  fell 
prostrate  at  his  feet.  Perceiving  a  weapon  glittering  in  his 
hand,  he  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  aftsr  a  slight  resistance 
secured  him,  and  handed  him  over  to  the  care  of  the  watch. 
He  provied  to  be  a  foreigner  ;  and  Warwick  at  the  moment 
deemed  him  merely  some  needy  adventurer  of  the  night. 

Warned  by  the  occurrence,  however,  and  the  lateness  of 
the  hour,  without  further  delay  he  sought  his  home  and  couch  ; 
and  ere  long,  in  imagination,  was  again  whirling  in  the  dance, 
while  strains  of  melting  music  floated  round  him  ;  again  Vi- 
ola's hand  returned  his  gentle  pressure ;  and  now  more  bold, 
than  before,  he  even  dared  to  clasp  her  to  his  bosom  ;  until  at 
length,  tired  nature  sunk  into  so  deep  a  repose  as  to  shut  out 
all  dreams. 

It  was  late  on  the  following  morning  when  he  arose  ;  but 
after  the  occurrence  of  that  important  event,  he  lost  no  time 
in  transporting  himself-  to  Stone  Street,  and  into  the  ojffice  of 
the  "  New  York  Journal,"  then  owned  and  edited  by  John 
Zenger,  Esq.  He  found  that  gentleman  in,  but  not  in  his 
usual  good  humor.  Sir  George  Carlton  and  Mr.  Gates  had 
just  left  him.  Those  two  individuals  had  not  been  able  to  rid 
themselves  of  the  impression  that  somehow  or  other  Mr.  Zenger 
was  in  fault,  that  they  had  failed  to  peruse  his  journal  of  the 
day  before,  and  accordingly  had  been  giving  him  a  lecture. 
Perceiving  now  that  Captain  Warwick  was  a  little  flurried,  he 
put  himself  on  his  guard. 

"  I  have  called  on  you,  Mr.  Zenger,"  said  Warwick,  with 
assumed  composure,  "  to  inquire  where  you  obtained  those 
lines  which  appeared  in  your  paper  of  yesterday,  relating  to  a 
foreign  lady  now  in  this  city  ;  and  by  what  authority  you  pub- 
lished them  ?" 

"  Are  you  the  author  of  the  lines.  Captain  Warwick  ?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Zenger  in  return. 


A   mOET  AND  A  DAY  ADYENTURE,  77 

"  That  matters  not." 

"  Beg  pardon,  but  I  think  it  matters  a  good  deal.  By  what 
authority  do  you  make  your  demand,  pray  ?" 

"  I  claim,  of  course,  a  controlling  interest  in  those  verses, 
Mr.  Zenger,  or  I  should  not  have  meddled  with  the  subject." 

"  That  I  am  to  understand,  I  suppose,  as  equivalent  to  an 
acknowledgment  of  authorship"?"  said  Mr.  Zenger. 

"  As  you  please." 

"  Allow  me  to  say.  Captain  Warwick,  that  I  was  in  no  re- 
spect aware  of  this.  The  lines  came  into  my  possession  from 
an  entirely  different  direction.  I  could  not  suppose  that  you 
had  any  connection  with  them  whatever." 

"  They  were  purloined  from  my  possession,"  said  Warwick, 
•with  emphasis. 

Mr.  Zenger  took  a  minute  for  reflection.    At  length  he  said  - 

"  1  am  sorry.  Captain  Warwick,  but  I  must  decline  answer 
ing  your  inquiries  at  present." 

"  But  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  have  them  answered  at 
once." 

"  I  must  see  the  other  party  in  interest  first." 

"  Mr.  Zenger,"  said  Warwick,  earnestly,  "  it  is  my  right  to 
have  this  perplexing  occurrence  explained  to  me  at  once  ;  and 
I  can  not  submit  to  delay." 

"  How  will  you  help  it  ?"  said  the  editor,  tartly. 

"  You  are  a  scoundrel,  sir,"  returned  Warwick,  at  the  same 
time  raising  his  sheathed  sword  to  inflict  on  him  a  blow. 

The  spirited  and  dexterous  editor  received  it  harmlessly  on 
a  chair ;  and  intimated  that  it  was  time  for  the  interview  to 
close,  by  directing  Captain  Warwick's  attention  to  the  door. 

Thus  the  two  gentlemen  separated ;  and  it  was  evident, 
from  the  ridiculous  notions  of  tliat  day,  on  the  subject  of  per- 
sonal honor,  in  which  they  shared,  thaii  the  affair  could  not 
well  rest  there.  Hitherto  their  relations  had  been  of  the  most 
friendly  nature.    Now,  a  contemptible  love  ditty  seemed  likely 


78  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

to  be  the  hinge  on  which  the  life  of  one  or  both  of  them  was 
to  be  suspended.  Hot  youth  is  ever  prone  to  magnify  mole- 
hills into  mountains.  The  best  song  that  was  ever  written  is 
not  worth  so  much  as  a  drop  of  blood ;  and  bullet-holes  and 
sword-cuts  have  no  narcotic  power,  that  they  should  be  ex- 
pected to  assuage  the  smart  of  a  wounded  spirit. 


ni^itx  itoUlJK 


laOHAEL  JOHNSON.      LOVE-MAKING  IN  HIGH  LIFE.      A  PRIKNDLT  'WARNINCf. 


"  Michael  was  his  name  ; 
An  old  man,  6tout  of  heart,  and  strong  of  limb. 

•  •  *  •  • 

Hence  he  bad  learned  the  meaning  of  all  winda. 
Of  blasts  of  every  tone,  and  oftentimes, 
When  others  heeded  not,  he  heard  the  south 
lUke  subterraneous  music." 


ON  the  same  day,  even  at  so  late  an  hour  as  that  m  which 
Charles  Warwick  and  Mr.  Zenger  were  discussing  the 
important  subject  of  difference  between  them,  the  mansion  of 
the  Spaniards  remained  quiet,  exhibiting  none  of  that  stir  and 
bustle  usual  to  the  establishment.  In  fact,  the  principal  per- 
sonages had  not  yet  risen.  Exhausted  by  the  excitements  of 
the  previous  evening,  rather  than  by  the  exercise  or  the  late- 
ness of  the  hour  at  which  the  guests  dispersed,  they  clung  to 
their  beds  ;  and  the  numerous  servants  were  either  following 
the  example  of  their  masters  or  making  a  holiday  morning 
of  their  leisure  through  the  town.  At  length,  near  eleven 
o'clock,  Michael  Johnson  issued  forth,  yawning,  into  the 
street,  stretching  out  his  long  arms,  first  in  one  direction  and 
then  in  another,  as  he  promenaded  bacTc  and  forth  on  the  pave- 
ment in  front  of  the  house  ;  not  that  this  veteran  was  either 
one  of  the  revelers  of  the  night  before  or  sluggards  of  the 
morning  ;  he  had  risen  early,  as  was  his  wont,  and  had  already 
attended  to  a  long  circle  of  duties  within.  At  last,  wearied 
with  the  prolonged  stillness  in  doors,  he  had  come  out  to  keep 
himself  awake  and  stir  his  limbs.  As  he  walked,  each  move- 
ment was  apparently  made  with  a  prodigious  effort;  and  he 


80  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

accompanied  his  hobbling  steps  with  a  sort  of  tune,  half 
whistled  and  half  sung,  to  which  he  seemed  in  some  degree 
to  accommodate  his  paces. 

Michael  Johnson,  perhaps,  may  be  regarded  as  a  fair  speci- 
men of  the  genuine  Yankee  of  his  day  ;  a  class  of  men  still 
in  existence,  and  somewhat  known  in  each  of  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  globe  ;  with  such  changes  as  the  lapse  of  a  cen- 
tury in  this  age  of  progress  must  necessarily  effect;  and 
whose  main  characteristics  ever  have  been  a  homely,  but  frank 
and  honest  bearing,  united  to  great  shrewdness,  resources  in 
case  of  need,  and  energy  of  action.  Nature  and  their  own 
stern  climate  have  given  them  hardy  frames  ;  and  at  the  pe- 
riod of  which  we  speak,  though  not  always  educated,  tech- 
nically speaking,  they  were  generally  intelligent ;  though 
boasting  no  extended  acquaintance  with  books  or  the  philos- 
ophy of  the  schools,  necessity,  and  an  inherent  restless  inde- 
pendence of  mind,  had  taught  them,  until  it  had  become  the 
nature  of  their  race  to  think  and  to  philosophize. 

Johnson,  at  this  time,  by  many  years  had  passed  the 
meridian  of  life,  and  his  person  was  large  and  ungainly.  Or- 
dinarily, or  rather  when  there  was  nothing  calling  for  a  ten- 
sion of  his  sinews,  he  was  much  bent,  but  was,  however,  still 
capable  of  becoming  erect ;  and  when  in  that  posture  he  stood 
six  feet  and  three  inches  without  boots.  At  first  sight,  his 
limbs  seemed  hung  so  loosely  together  as  to  preclude  all  idea 
of  sudden  or  effective  motion.  But  this  was  illusory.  A 
closer  inspection  exhibited  an  unusual  volume  and  prominence 
of  muscle,  of  such  appearance  as  to  convince  the  observer 
that  bone  and  flesh  alike  had  been  worn  to  an  iron  hardness 
and  toughness- by  exercise  and  exposure  to  the  sunshine  and 
storms,  the  heats  and  the  colds,  of  different  climes.  His  long, 
thick  hair  and  heavy  eyebrows  had,  doubtless,  been  dark,  but 
both  were  now  so  msich  turned  to  gray  as  to  render  their 
orimitive  color  uncertain  ;  his  nose  was  large  a  ui  prominent; 


MICHAEL  JOHNSON.  81 


and  his  countenance,  across  which  deep  lines  were  transverse- 
ly furrowed,  was  very  sallow,  save  a  small  portion  of  the 
cheek,  from  which  the  original  florid  hue  had  not  yet  entirely 
faded.  As  a  counterbalance  to  all  these  disadvantages — and 
they  were  sufficient — were  his  clear,  hazel  eyes,  which  alone, 
)f  all  his  features,  seemed  to  possess  ordinary  animation,  and 
which,  \vith  his  whole  face,  were  generally  lighted  up  with 
ar  agreeable  smile,  of  a  sad,  but  kindlier  character,  than  often 
belongs  to  a  man. 

Such  was  the  usual  appearance  of  Michael  Johnson ;  at 
the  present  moment,  however,  his  brow  was  somewhat  cloud- 
ed. As  he  continued  to  walk  backward  and  forward,  he  kept 
his  eyes  bent  on  the  stones  at  his  feet,  as  though  in  perplex- 
ing thought.  At  length  he  ceased  singing ;  and  as  he  appar- 
ently brought  the  subject  which  engaged  his  attention  to  a 
conclusion,  he  registered  the  decision  with  a  half  audible 
utterance. 

"  I'll  see  the  boy,  Warwick,"  said  he.     "  Yes,  I'll  see  him.'' 

He  stopped  walking  and  looked  up,  as  though  about  to  start 
on  the  errand  he  had  indicated,  when  he  perceived  a  gentle- 
man approaching,  who  accosted  him  as  follows : 

"  Good-moriiing !  sir.  Do  you  belong  to  my  Lord  Don 
Manuel  ?" 

The  individual  who  made  this  inquiry  was  a  short,  dappei 
sort  of  person,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  with  an 
abundance  of  ruffles,  rings,  and  chains,  and  who  had  just 
alighted  from  a  carriage  which  remained  a  few  paces  off  in 
the  hands  of  a  servant.  Johnson  had  seen  him  before  ;  never- 
theless, he  could  not  well  refrain  from  examining  him  with  a 
curious  eye,  as  he  replied  : 

"  I  am  with  his  Excellenza  at  present." 

The  gentleman  proceeded  to  extract  a  very  small  letter  from 
an  elegant  pocket-book,  and  balancing  a  half-crown  upon  it, 
held  it  out  in  his  hand  as  he  said : 

4* 


82  CAMP  FIEES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

"  Be  SO  good  as  to  deliver  this  note  to  my  Lady  Viola  Tor- 
rillo." 

"  Sartainly,  sir,"  said  Johnson,  "  but  keep  your  money." 

The  gentleman  bowed  and  re-pocketed  the  silver,  but 
showed  no  disposition  to  depart.  He  proceeded  to  speak  of 
the  weather  and  other  indifferent  subjects,  in  order  to  establish 
himself  on  a  familiar  footing  with  the  individual  bejore  him, 
to  whom,  in  his  own  mind,  he  proposed  to  apply  a  very  dex- 
terous pumping  process  before  he  should  quit  him.  At  length 
he  remarked : 

"The  vessel  that  his  Excellency  came  in,  I  think  I  have 
heard,  was  lost  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  trust  my  Lord  was  no  great  sufferer  ?" 

"  He  came  near  losing  his  life,"  returned  Johnson. 

"  The  cargo,  I  have  understood,"  continued  the  other, "  was 
a  very  rich  one." 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  was  a  valuable  cargo." 

"  And  a  great  part  of  it  perished  ?" 

"  Sartainly,"  replied  the  old  man. 

The  inquisitive  gentleman  became  somewhat  restless. 

"  My  Lord's  estates,"  he  proceeded  in  a  sort  of  desperation 
to  say,  "  lie  principally  in  Mexico,  I  am  told,  instead  of  Spain  ?" 

"  His  Excellenza  is  stirring,  I  see,"  returned  Johnson,  with 
a  smile.  "  Allow  me  to  show  you  in,  that  you  may  put  your 
questions  to  him  in  person  ?" 

This  the  individual — who  was  no  other  than  Major  Van 
Quirk — hurriedly  declined,  and  springing  into  his  carriage, 
rolled  away  ;  while  Johnson,  having  delivered  the  note  left  in 
his  charge,  proceeded  on  foot  in  an  opposite  direction. 

Meanwhile,  Don  Manuel,  in  his  morning-gown  and  slip- 
pers, was  sitting  in  his  parlor,  sipping  coffee  and  skimming 
over  the  newspapers,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  his  daughter.      The  Lady  Viola,  to  all  appearance,  had 


MICHAEL  JOHNSON.  83 


entirely  recovered  from  the  fatigues  of  the  party.  Her  face 
was  radiant  with  animation,  and  her  eyes  beaming  with  mis- 
chief, as  she  approached  her  father  and  placed  a  brace  of 
billet-doux  in  his'hand, 

Don  Manuel  instinctively  applied  the  gilded  and  rose-colored 
missives  to  his  nose,  as  the  perfumes  with  which  they  were 
loaded  seemed  to  invite  ;  but  being  playfully  chid  by  his 
daughter  for  the  ungallant  act,  he  proceeded  to  an  examination 
of  their  contents. 

Both  bore  the  signature  of  Theophilus  Van  Quirk.  Num- 
ber one  was  dated,  and  had  been  received,  on  the  day  previous, 
but  in  the  hurry  of  preparation  for  the  Governor's  ball  it  had 
not,  perhaps,  commanded  that  attention  which  its  merits  de- 
served. It  inclosed  a  printed  copy  of  the  verses  with  which 
the  reader  is  so  well  acquainted,  and  which  were  declared  to 
contain  a  brief  representation  and  manifest  of  the  state  and 
condition  of  the  Major's  heart.  He  did  not  expressly  declare 
himself  the  author  of  the  lines,  but  left  such  an  inference  in- 
evitable Number  two  was  a  formal  offer  of  marriage,  word- 
ed in  the  most  grandiloquent  and  approved  letter-book  style 
possible.  Major  Van  Quirk  spoke  of  his  family  as  one  of 
.the  first  in  his  Majesty's  Colony;  and  managed  to  mention, 
quite  incidentally,  that  his  elder  brother  was  a  member  of  the 
Council,  and  that  the  Van  Quirks  and  the  great  Sawmilloway 
family  were  closely  connected  by  marriage.  He  spoke  of 
his  intimacy  with  the  Clintons,  Carltons,  and  Gages,  and 
closed  his  epistle  with  the  apposite  remark,  that  "  his  person, 
of  course,  must  speak  for  itself." 

Don  Manuel  burst  into  an  immoderate  fit  of  laughter  as  h. 
concluded  the  perusal  of  these  two  model  letters  on  love  and 
marriage,  in  which,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  the  Lady  Viola 
most  heartily  joined.  He  threatened  to  have  them  framed 
and  suspended  against  the  wall,  whereat  a  playful  struggle 
commenced  between  him  and  his  daughter  for  the  possession 


84  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

of  the  precious  documents,  in  the  midst  of  which  Don  Fer 
dinand  entered  the  room. 

The  affair  was  too  good  to  be  kept ;  and  notwithstanding 
the  entreaties  of  Viola,  Don  Manuel  persisted  in  showing  the 
missives  to  Don  Ferdinand.  His  daughter  made  her  escape 
from  the  room  ;  while  Cassino  perused  the  letters  with  an 
expression  of  countenance  too  plainly  indicating  tiiat  he  was 
unable  to  discover  the  joke  which  had  produced  so  much  mer- 
riment. Having  finished  the  reading,  with  an  expression  of 
rage  he  threw  them  on  the  floor  and  trampled  them  under 
foot.  At  this  point,  however,  his  ebullition  of  passion  was  cut 
short  by  the  entrance,  at  the  heel  of  the  servant  who  came  to 
announce  him,  of  Colonel  McSpike,  a  Scotch  gentleman  of 
birth  and  fortune  with  whom  Don  Manuel  had  contracted  an 
agreeable  and  familiar  acquaintance,  and  his  arrival  was 
shortly  followed  by  that  of  Sir  George  Carlton  and  Mr. 
Gates,  and  one  or  two  others,  whose  entree  at  the  Spanish 
mansion  was  of  such  a  footing  as  to  allow  of  their  joining  the 
male  coterie  which  frequently  assembled  there  before  dinnej. 

Meanwhile  MichaeV  Johnson  proceeded  to  the  residence  of 
Captain  Warwick.  He  found  that  individual  at  home,  but 
evidently  in  no  very  equable  frame  of  mind.  In  fact,  he  had 
but  recently  returned  from  his  interview  with  Mr.  Zenger  ; 
the  unpleasant  termination  of  which,  and  the  consequences 
that  might  grow  out  of  it,  he  was  still  quite  too  unsophisti- 
cated to  contemplate  with  composure.  He  felt  vexed  with 
himself;  he  felt  vexed  with  Mr.  Zenger;  and  with  all  other 
persons  unknown,  who  had  contributed  to  bring  him  into  his 
present  dilemma.  But  particularly  was  he  vexed  with  him- 
self; for  he  suspected  that  he  had  been  overhasty.  He  had 
discovered  that  a  copy  of  his  unfortunate  poem,  which  he  had 
retained  in  his  own  pocket,  was  no  longer  there  ;  and  it 
occurred  to  him  that  his  own  carelessness,  in  part,  might  be 
in  fault ;  that  he  might  have  dropped  it  in  the  street ;  and 


MICHAEL  JOHNSON.  85 


furthermore,  on  reftection,  the  refusal  of  Mr.  Zenger  to  explain 
how  the  lines  came  into  his  possession  until  he  could  see  the 
other  party  in  interest,  did  not  appear  altogether  so  unreason- 
able as  at  first.  He  still  thought  that  individual  in  an  unus- 
ually hot  temper  that  morning,  but  on  the  whole  was  much 
less  certain  of  his  own  ground  than  Avhen  he  parted  from 
him,  and  felt  much  less  disposed  to  push  him  to  extrem- 
ities. 

The  thoughts  of  both  Johnson  and  Warwick  being  thus 
occupied  with  subjects  of  "unusual  gravity,  they  soon  per- 
ceived that  the  ease  of  their  previous  intercourse  was  alto- 
gether wanting.  Warwick  made  a  vigorous  effort  to  overcome 
the  obstruction.  His  esteem  for  the  plain  old  man  was  deep 
and  unaffected.  It  was  more  like  the  feeling  of  a  son  for  his 
father,  than  of  a  youth  toward  his  senior.  Their  first  meet- 
ing on  the  Jersey  beach,  where  each  had  exhibited  a  cool- 
ness and  courage  which  could  not  fail  to  commend  him  strongly 
to  the  other,  was  of  a  nature  to  break  down  all  mere  cer- 
emony and  supposed  differences  of  position  between  them ; 
and  Warwick  had  long  since  come  to  regard  ^Michael  Johnson 
as  a  friend  whose  good  opinion  he  coveted,  and  on  whose 
kindness  and  judgment,  in  case  of  need,  he  might  unhesita- 
tingly rely.  He  now  accordingly  rallied  himself,  with  a 
hearty  desire  to  entertain  his  guest  in  a  manner  correspond- 
ing to  his  opinion  of  his  deserts. 

Johnson  perceived  and  appreciated  the  effort ;  but  after  a 
few  moments  of  conversation,  feeling  that  hesitation  or  cir- 
cumlocution was  not  to  his  taste,  he  came  directly  to  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  his  errand. 

"  Captain  Warwick,"  said  he,  "  I've  a  delicate  duty  to 
perform.  I  fear  you  are  in  danger ;  and  lest,  after  having 
made  up  my  mind  to  put  you  on  your  guard,  I  do  it  to  no 
purpose,  I  will  add,  that  I've  reason  to  think  Don  Ferdinand 
is  brewing  mischief  agin  you." 


•86  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

Warwick  was^  hardly  surprised.  He  inquired,  however,  as 
'to  the  nature  of  the  apprehended  danger. 

"  Its  nater  I  can  not  exactly  tell,"  said  Johnson  ;  "  but  I   , 
should  not  wonder  if  you  were  to  be  set  on  in  the  night." 

"What!  Don  Ferdinand  turn  assassin  1"  exclaimed  War- 
wick. ' 

"  Sartainly,"  said  Johnson ;  "  it  is  his  nater.  But  most 
likely  you  would  have  to  do  with  some  of  his  rascals,  of  whom 
he  has  plenty  about  him." 

This  brought  the  occurrence  of  the  previous  night  to  War-  \ 
wick's  mind ;  and  he  related  it  to  the  old  man. 

"Just  the  thing!"  said  Johnson.     "  That  is  the  Don  to  a 
sartainty.     You  gave  the  villain  into  the  hands  of  the  watch,   j 
Captain  ?     Have  you  appeared  agin  him  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Warwick  ;  "  and  had  not  intended  to.  I 
thought  perhaps  his  stomach  was  in  fault,  rather  than  his 
heart." 

"  Well,  it  is  best  not  to,  I  guess,"  said  Johnson.  "  And 
now,  Captain,  you  see  the  necessity  of  being  on  your  gUard. 
If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  venter  out  much  nights,  just  at 
present ;  and  I'd  keep  clear  of  by-places  in  the  daytime,  too." 

"  Am  I  to  skulk,  and  hide,  and  run  from  this  proud  Span- 
iard?" said  Warwick,  warmly,  "  whom  I  drew  dead  out  of  the 
sea  but  a  few  weeks  ago  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Johnson,  mildly  ;  "  but  what  can  you  do?  My 
evidence  agin  Ferdinand  is  not  of  a  positive  nater ;  and  the 
rascal  you  took  captive  last  night  would  be  cut  in  inches 
before  he'd  expose  his  master.  But  for  the  sake  of  better 
evidence.  Captain,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  invite  the  cut  of  a 
dagger  ?" 

"  No,  no,  good  TVIiehael,"  said  Warwick.  "  One  should 
neVer  needlessly  expose  himself  to  danger.  He  should  avoid 
that  with  as  much  care  as  he  should  be  resolved,  regardless 
of  danger,  always  to  perform  his  duty.     It  is  not  expected,  I    | 


MICHAEL  jbnNSON.  87 


presume,  that  I  should  at  all  relinquish  the  society  of  Don 
Manuel  and  his  daughter?" 

"On  that  pint  I  can't  advise,"  said  Johnson.  "It  must 
depend  on  your  own  feelins.  This  much  I  will  say,  how- 
ever, the  situation  of  that  sweet  child,  Viola,  can  hardly  be 
worse  than  it  was  before  you  knew  her.  She  has  no  love 
for  Ferdinand — she  hates  him,  but  he  can't  see  it." 

"  In  other  words,  my  most  excellent  friend,  if  my  affection 
for  the  young  lady,  which  I  freely  acknowledge  to  you,  but 
save  her  from  the  persecutions  of  her  Spanish  suitor,  it  will 
At  least  do  something  toward  securing  her  happiness.  Then, 
by  Heaven  !  if  she  love  me  in  return,  as  I  believe  she  does* 
I  will  never  yield  her  to  any  man.  She  shall  be  mine,  and 
mine  alone  !" 

The  warmth  with  which  these  words  were  spoken  star- 
tled the  old  man ;  but  it  did  not  seem  to  displease  him.  He 
rested  his  head  on  his  palm  for  a  few  moments  in  silent 
thought ;  then,  rising,  he  took  the  young  soldier  kindly  by  the 
hand,  as  he  said : 

"If  this  be  your  deliberate  resolve,  my  boy,  and  your 
nater  tells  you  it  is  right,  then  may  the  great  Universal  Lover 
of  us  all  bless  you  in  it!  She  is  one  of  a  thousand,  the 
fairest  and  best  of  all  the  flowers  I  have  seen  in  my  day, 
save  one.     An  old  man's  blessing  be  with  you  both !" 

Thus  saying,  while  a  slight  moisture  bedewed  the  soft,  sad 
smile  in  his  eye,  Michael  Johnson  took  his  departure. 


^^ttx  %\xxittxi. 

MAJOR    VAN    quirk's    PROSPECTIVE    DUEL. 


Pistols  and  coffee  for  two  1" 


IT  was  evening ;  and  Theophilus  Van  Quirk,  Esq.,  Major, 
Attorney-at-Law  and  Counselor,  and  Solicitor  in  Chancery, 
was  alone  in  his  office,  which  was  on  a  second  floor.  He  was 
engaged  at  some  little  duties  which  his  limited  income,  and 
expensive  parade  whenever  he  appeared  in  public,  made  it 
advisable  that  he  should  perform  himself.  Shoe-brushes  and 
blacking  occupied  a  chair  beside  him,  where  also  stood  a  pair 
of  boots,  polished  to  the  very  extent  of  which  they  were  sus- 
ceptible. He  was  now  employed  with  a  sponge,  extracting 
some  spots  from  the  collar  of  his  coat,  as  the  garment  was  ex- 
tended on  a  chair.  The  room  Was  small,  and  somewhat 
elaborately  furnished.  On  one  side  there  was  a  book-case 
with  glass  doors,  within  which  hung  a  green  curtain  that  con- 
cealed all  the  interior,  save  a  shelf  at  the  bottom  where  was 
arranged  a  tier  of  law  books.  On  the  other  stood  a  table  cov- 
ered with  green  velvet,  on  which  were  very  systematically 
arranged  a  fanciful  glass  inkstand,  stamps,  pens,  sundry  bun- 
dles of  business  papers,  as  would  appear,  folded  exactly  of 
the  same  dimensions,  and  tied  with  red  tape  ;  half  a  dozen  or 
more  of  letters,  so  disposed  as  to  exhibit  their  superscriptions  ; 
with  various  pamphlets  and  newspapers,  American  and  foreign, 
carefully  labeled  and  placed  in  piles  against  the  wall.  The 
remaining  portions  of  the  room  were  set  out  with  a  pier-glass, 
a  sofa,  and  several  chairs.      Through  an  inner  door,  which 


MAJOR    VAN  QUIKK>S  PROSPECTIVE  DUEL.  89 


stood  open,  a  much  smaller  room  was  discernible  ;  and  within, 
in  plain  view,  was  a  dressing  sland  and  mirror,  with  combs, 
brushes,  bottles  of  c  ologne  and  unguents,  for  invigorating  the 
complexion  and  the  hair  ;  and  near  by  a  very  elegant  leathern 
traveling  trunk,  and  beyond  still  a  bachelor's  single  bed. 

Theophilus  Van  Quirk,  Esq.,  as  has  been  remarked,  was  a 
man  of  small  stature  :  his  utmost  elevation  might  have  been 
some  five  feet  five.  He  was  square  built,  and  by  no  means 
of  an  unprepossessing  exterior :  indeed,  he  prided  himself, 
and  not  without  reason,  on  his  good  looks.  He  had  found 
time  among  the  cares  of  his  profession,  which  were  not  al- 
ways particularly  pressing,  to  devote  considerable  attention 
to  military  matters ;  and  as  the  reward  of  a  long  period  of 
service  with  the  Colonial  Independents,  backed  by  certain  in- 
fluences which  he  had  managed  to  marshal  in  his  favor,  he 
had  won  for  himself  the  prefix  of  Major.  In  this  appellation 
he  especially  delighted  ;  and  it  was  doubtless  his  military  as- 
sociations which  had  conferred  on  him  a  certain  dignity  of 
carriage  and  action,  for  which  he  was  not  a  little  remarkable. 

On  the  present  evening.  Major  Van  Quirk  was  decidedly 
in  good  humor  ;  his  countenance  was  the  seat  of  buoyant  hap- 
piness, evincing  a  mind  satisfied  with  all  the  world,  and  with 
himself.  He  occasionally  quitted  his  employment  and  sur- 
veyed himself  complacently  in  the  glass;  elevating  his  person, 
and  snapping  the  lids  of  his  really  handsome  eyes  together, 
as  he  imbued  his  features,  at  pleasure,  with  wreathed  smiles, 
or  frowns  of  fierce  and  terrible  significance.  From  this  last 
mood  or  expression  he  would  again  suffer  himself  to  soften 
down  into  a  condition  of  bland  quiescence,  when  he  would 
biisy  himself  for  a  moment  in  detecting  and  immolating  the 
straggling  gray  hairs,  with  which  Time,  he  was  fain^^o  con- 
vince himself,  had  prematurely  sprinkled  his  temples. 

At  length  the  Major's  ear  detected  a  foot-fall  on  the  stairs. 
In  a  moment  the  coat  was  on  his  back ;  the  blacking  and 


490  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

brushes  vanished  into  a  closet ;  and  seizing  a  pen,  he  spread 
out  a  half-finished  writing  before  him,  and  seated  himself  at 
his  table.     Mr.  Gates  and  Sir  George  Carlton  entered. 

"  Good-evening,  Major,"  said  the  first  of  these  gentlemen ; 
"  we  find  you  always  busy." 

"  How  wags  the  world,  my  good  fellow,  and  how  thrives 
the  profession  ?"  said  Sir  George,  before  the  Major  had  time 
to  reply  to  the  first  salutation. 

"  Fairly,  fairly,"  was  the  reply.  "  We  lawyers  lead  a  busy 
life  of  it,  truly ;  and  were  we  to  attempt  to  give  ourselves 
leisure,  the  ruin  of  our  clients,  you  know,  might  be  the  conse- 
q[uence." 

"  True,"  said  Sir  George ;  "  but  how  happened  it.  Major, 
that  you  made  so  little  stir  at  the  late  term  1  You  had  but 
one  cause  on  the  calendar,  I  think." 

"Oh,  I  have  confined  myself  to  the  higher  courts,  of  late," 
replied  the  Major.  "  But,  Sir  George,  I  think  I  have  been 
guilty  of  a  folly,  and  shall  descend  a  little.  When  such  old 
and  respectable  lawyers  as  Van  Brunt  will  grab  at  any  sort  of 
business  they  can  get,  it  looks  singular  to  see  a  young  man 
decline.  Besides,  I  begin  to  perceive,  I  may  as  well  have 
my  share  of  whatever  is  going." 

"  How  old  are  you.  Major  ?"  said  Sir  George,  in  a  careless, 
privileged  tone. 

The  Major  halted,  and  stammered  out  something  which  was 
quite  unintelligible. 

"  How  old  did  you  say?"  said  Mr.  Gates. 

"  Oh,  almost  thirty,"  said  the  Major,  hurriedly. 
*     "  Thirty  !"  echoed  both  gentlemen  at  once. 

"  Why,  Major !"  said  Sir  George,  "  you  have  been  in  the 
practice  of  your  profession,  one  of  the  prominent  ornaments 
of  the  bar  of  this  city,  for  more  than  two-thirds  of  that  period." 

The  Major  exhibited  a  good  deal  of  uneasiness.  The  ques- 
tion of  his  age  was  his  sore  point,  and  ono  on  which  he  had 


MAJOR    VAN-  QUIRK'S  PROSPECTIVE  DUEL.  ;9l 

been  obliged  to  stand  a  bantering,  similar  to  the  present,  and 
frequently  from  the  same  parties,  as  often  as  once  a  week  for 
;many  years.     No  wonder  he  was  agitated. 

"  The  name  has  misled  you,"  at  length  he  faltered.  "  There 
have  been  other  Van  Quirks  who  were  lawyers." 

"  But,"  said  Sir  George,  "  you  were  one  of  the  attorneys 
■in  the  great  will-case  of  '  Pickum  versus  Wickum,'  in  173- ; 
at  any  rate  you  have  told  me  so,  and  that  was  twenty  years 
ago." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  Major,  beseechingly,  "  I  have  forgotten 
the  year,  but  it  can  not  be  so  long  ago  as  that." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Mr.  Gates,  "  this  question  has  at 
length  become  one  of  so  much  importance,  that  I  feel  bound 
no  longer  to  withhold  what  I  know  on  the  subject.  You  may 
have  heard,  Sir  George,  that  in  my  childhood  (Mr.  Gates  was 
now  himself  quite  advanced,  for  a  young  man)  I  spent  some 
time  in  these  Colonies.  While  here  at  that  ancient  period,  I 
went  to  school  to  the  Major,  and  I  very  well  remember  that 
they  used  to  call  him  old  Mr.  Van  Quirk  then." 

Sir  George  laughed  immoderately. 

"  My  God !"  gasped  the  Major.  "  Gentlemen,  it  seems  to 
me  that  you  are  carrying  this  joke  quite  too  far." 

But  his  tormentors  were  compassionless. 

"  It  is  no  joke  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Gates.  "  From  the  best 
evidence  that  can  be  gathered  at  this  late  day,  it  is  quite  cer- 
tain that  the  Major  has  existed,  in  the  present  body,  not  one 
whit  short  of  a  century." 

"  And  yet   how  well  he  is  preserved,"  said  Sir  George. 
"  He  does  not  look  to  be  over  twenty  now.    His  is  a  perpetual, 
youth." 

"  I  can  not  learn,  from  the  oldest  inhabitant,"  said  Mr. 
Gates,  "  that  there  has  been  any  perceptible  change  in  him 
during  his  day." 

"  Why,  he  is  a  veritable  second  edition  of  the  Jew, 


92  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

with  the  '  wandering'  expunged,"  said  Sir  George ;  "  for  the 
Major  is  altogether  a  station-e-ry  character." 

"  That  pun  of  yours  is  a  most  villainous  one,  Sir  George," 
said  Mr.  Gates.  "If  the  Major  were  a  paper-dealer,  it  would 
do  better." 

"  Were  you  to  hear  the  Major  give  an  inventory  of  the 
foolscap,  the  gallons  of  ink,  and  the  bundles  of  tape  he  con- 
sumes in  the  course  of  a  year,. your  judgment  on  that  point 
would  be  less  severe,"  returned  Sir  George.  "  But  I  am  happy 
to  say  that  this  age-question  is  likely,  at  last,  to  be  definitively 
settled.  A  dozen  ladies,  a  whole  jury,  have  this  day  bound 
themselves  together  by  an  oath,  the  next  time  the  Major  ap- 
pears in  court,  to  have  him  brought  on  the  stand  and  ques- 
tioned in  this  particular  :  and  the  result  is  to  be  duly  entered 
on  the  public  records  of  the  city." 

"  Ah !  that  I  shall  be  able  to  stand,"  said  the  Major,  prick- 
ing up  a  little.     "  I  am  always  at  the  service  of  the  ladies." 

"  Like  a  most  valorous  knight  as  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Gates. 
"  But  I  have  often  wondered  that  a  man  of  the  Major's  parts 
should  persist  in  living  single  all  his  days,  and  suffer  his  vigor 
thus  to  waste  away,  and  wealth  and  beauty,  as  is  very  well 
known,  to  sigh  for  him  in  vain." 

"  No  flattery,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Major,  with  a  smile,  "  you 
know  it  is  against  the  rules  of  the  court." 

"  But  I  hear  it  whispered,"  continued  Mr.  Gates,  "  that  the 
Major  is  at  last  in  a  fair  way  to  be  caught ;  indeed,  that  the 
subject  of  a  matrimonial  alliance  is  even  now  on  the  tapis. 
The  foreign  beauty  is  not  one  to  be  slighted  ;  eh,  Major  ?" 

The  Major  arose  quickly  from  his  chair,  threw  his  coat 
partly  back  from  his  shoulders,  and  sticking  his  thumbs  into 
the  armholes  of  his  vest  strode  across  the  floor  in  a  paroxysm 
of  delight.  After  a  minute  or  two  of  silent  enjoyment  he  in- 
quired : 

"  How  did  you  hear  of  it,  Gates  ?" 


MAJOR    VAN  QUIRS^S  PROSPBOTIVB  DUEL.  93 


"  Oh,  down  at  Clinton's." 

^  Yes,  I  was  there  to-day,"  continued  the  Major,  "  and  had 
some  conversation  with  the  Governor's  lady  on  the  subject. 
She  thinks  well  of  it,  but — I  declare,  I  don't  know — I  don't 
know." 

-  The  Major  accompanied  these  expressions  of  doubt  with 
several  grave  shakes  of  the  head.  His  two  friends  regarded 
him  with  sympathizing  but  hilarious  countenances. 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,"  said  Sir  George,  "  that  she  is  poor. 
Every  thing,  I  understand,  was  lost  with  the  wreck." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,"  said  the  Major,  quickly.  "  The 
old  Don  is  as  rich  as  Croesus.  He  has  his  patrimonial  es- 
tates in  Spain,  which  are  none  of  the  smallest  as  I  happen  to 
know,  besides  extensive  possessions  in  Mexico  and  the  West 
Indies,  and  the  Lady  Viola  is  his  only  child.  Let  me  alone 
to  take  care  of  number  one,  gentlemen." 

The  conversation  was  here  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  a  stranger,  who  proved  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  dis- 
patch for  the  Major.  The  missive  was  received  with  much 
ceremony.  The  party  interested,  begging  to  be  excused  for 
a  moment,  glanced  at  the  superscription  and  broke  the  seal. 
At  once  his  eyes  became  rooted  to  the  paper.  He  turned 
deadly  pale,  and  actually  shook  in  his  seat.  At  length  he 
gasped  out,  '*  A  challenge  !" 

"A  challenge  !"  said  Mr.  Gates. 

"  A  challenge  !''  echoed  Sir  George.  '*  But  compose  your- 
self, my  dear  sir,"  he  whispered.  "  Recollect  you  are  in  the 
presence  of  your  antagonist's  second." 

In  truth,  for  the  moment  Major  Van  Quirk  was  overcome. 
It  did  not,  however,  last  long.  With  the  readiness  of  his  pro- 
fession he  recovered  his  self-possession.  The  proxy  was  in- 
vited to  a'seat.  Taking  a  minute  or  two  for  deliberation,  he 
turned  to  that  individual,  and  with  a  voice  sufficiently  firm,  but 
with  much  quickness,  said  : 


94  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

"  Tell  your  principal  that  I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  to 
send  a  bullet — " 

"Are  you  not  precipitating  matters  too  fast?"  said  Mr. 
Gates,  interrupting  him.     "  Reserve  your  reply  till  to-morrow." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Major,  brightening.  "  But  if  any 
one  wishes  to  meet  me  on  the  field  of  honor  I  am  ready  at 
any  hour.     I  ask  not  a  delay,  even  of  ten  seconds." 

The  bearer  of  the  challenge  was  then  instructed  that  his 
principal  should  hear  from  the  Major  to  his  satisfaction  on  the 
morrow,  and  thereupon  he  bowed  himself  very  stiffly  and  very 
ceremoniously  down  stairs. 

"  Good  God  !"  said  Sir  George,  "  can  it  be  really  so  1  To 
be  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  life  and  usefulness  by  a  pistol-ball 
or  the  thrust  of  a  small-sword  is  no  joke,  Major.  Whom  can' 
you,  notoriously  unpretending  and  inoffensive  as  you  are,  have 
had  the  misfortune  to  offend  so  mortally  that  he  should  thirst 
for  your  blood  ?" 

The  Major  made  no  reply,  but  handed  the  note  to  hia 
friends.  They  perceived  that  the  few  lines  it  contained  were 
signed  "  Cassino,"  and  that  there  was  an  important  alternative 
in  the  terms  of  the  challenge.  If  the  Major  would  withdraw 
his  pretensions  to  the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo,  which  the  Spaniard 
characterized  as  an  "  impertinent  interference  in  matters 
which  did  not  concern  him,"  the  breach  might  yet  be  healed. 

"  You  will  relinquish  the  lady  ?"  said  Mr.  Gates. 

"  Never,"  replied  the  Major,  firmly. 

**  Why,  this  is  a  serious  matter,  Major ;  what  do  you  intend 
to  do  ?" 

"  Fight  him,"  said  the  Major,  doggedly. 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !"  shouted  Sir  George.  "  Here  is  the  real 
stuff,  true  Yankee  mettle,  every  inch.  Blood,  bone,  and  sin- 
ews are  all  properly  tempered,  I  see.  He  will  maintain  the 
honor  of  a  gentleman  to  the  last  gasp.  America  against 
Spain '     I  back  the  Yankee,  two  to  one  !" 


MAJOR   VAN-  QmBK>S  PROSPECTIVE  BTTEL.  95 

"  I  go  it,  gentlemen,  there's  no  mistake.  Call  me  a  teapot 
if  I  flinch.  But  I  trust  ray  friends  will  stand  by  me  and 
see  that  I  have  fair  play  ?"  added  the  Major,  with  a  ghastly 
smile. 

"  We  will,"  returned  Sir  George.  "  I  will  be  your  second,, 
and  will  call  in  the  morning  for  your  directions.  But  keep 
up  your  courage,  man.  Very  likely  there  will  be  no  hit  the 
first  shot,  and  then  the  affair  may  be  settled ;  though  these 
Spanish  Dons  are  apt  to  be  cursed  close  with  a  pistol.  At. 
any  rate  it  is  no  ways  certain  that  you  get  your  quietus,  Ma- 
jor— a  mere  flesh  wound,  or  the  loss  of  a  leg  or  arm,  perhaps^, 
and  what  are  they  to  a  man's  honor  V 

The  Major  forced  himself  to  laugh  aloud  at  this  pleasant* 
picture,  but  the  hollow  sound  of  his  own  voice  shocked  him. 
Sir  George  continued : 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Van  Quirk,  you  must  wish  a  few 
hours  to  yourself  to  devote  to  the  arrangement  of  personal; 
matters  so  necessary  on  an  occasion  like  this.  We  will 
therefore  bid  you  good-night,  but  I  will  not  fail  to  be  with  you; 
early  to-morrow." 

Thus  saying  the  two  gentlemen  departed.  t 

Notwithstanding  his  peculiarities.  Major  Van  Quirk  was  at 
heart  an  amiable  and  peace-loving  man.  His  foibles  were- 
such  as  circumstances  operating  on  a  weak  and  vain  mind  had 
very  naturally  induced.  His  family  reckoned  among  thenr. 
men  of  parts,  and  his  great  error  was  in  supposing  that  he  was^ 
one  of  the  number.  While  he  wa»  in  reality  the  butt  andi 
plaything  of  the  town,  tolerated  for  amusement  and  out  of 
respect  to  others,  he  imagined  himself  envied  and  admired. 
His  ambition  was  high.  He  devoted  himself  to  popular  sides,, 
and  in  the  political  questions  of  the  day  was  quite  apt  to  be 
over-zealous,  and  was  especially  ardent  in  defending  the  Col- 
onists against  the  encroachments  of  the  Crown.  He  looked! 
on  himself  as  a  champion  of  the  people,  and  was  in  the  daily- 


96  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

expectation  of  some  glorious  reward,  some  high  honor  at  their 
hands,  which  he  flattered  himself  was  justly  due  to  his  valu- 
able and  unceasing  efforts  in  their  service,  and  which  would 
confer  on  him  that  wealth  and  consideration  after  which  he 
pined. 

But  though  a  clamorous  devotee  at  the  Temple  of  Fame,  the 
gallant  Major  had  no  especial  desire  for  the  sort  of  immor- 
tality at  present  proposed.  "  Killed  in  a  duel^''  would  make  a 
very  attractive  heading  wherewith  to  connect  his  name  in  a 
newspaper  paragraph,  but  the  aspirations  of  his  mind  required 
something  more  than  this  to  satisfy  them.  On  his  tomb, 
whenever  he  might  turn  to  earth,  should  be  written  some  high 
achievement,  some  glorious  boon  conferred  on  his  country, 
which  would  cause  men  to  weep  and  wonder  as  they  gazed 
on  the  place  of  his  silent  but  majestic  rest.  His  name,  so  he 
hoped  and  prayed  and  believed,  should  be  fixed  among  the 
honored  of  ages,  graved  in  imperishable  characters  on  the 
brazen  pillar  of  the  world's  renown.  Neither  had  he  any 
particular  affection  for  flesh  wounds,  or  the  loss  of  legs  and 
arms,  so  coolly  enumerated  by  his  friend  Sir  George  in  his 
catalogue  of  chances.  Indeed,  any  and  all  of  these  contin- 
gencies were  among  those  which,  in  his  struggle  after  an  ex- 
emption from  oblivion,  he  felt  extremely  solicitous  to  avoid. 

"When,  therefore,  the  door  closed  on  his  noble  friends,  and 
he  was  left  alone,  he  brought  his  hands  convulsively  to  his 
forehead,  and  subjected  it  to  a  pressure  as  though  it  had  been 
placed  in  a  vice.  For  some  minutes  he  remained  standing 
where  he  bade  them  good-night,  as  though  lost  in  a  maze. 
Thus  he  continued  until  his  limbs  refused  to  sustain  him  any 
longer,  when  he  tottered  to  a  seat  and  sunk  into  a  condition 
bordering  on  stupefaction.  An  hour  passed  off  in  this  man- 
ner, when,  starting  up  wildly,  he  uttered  a  loud,  demoniac 
laugh.  Shaking  himself,  he  paced  hurriedly  across  the  floor, 
and  struck  his  fist  into  the  palm  of  his  open  hand.     Instinct- 


MAJOR    VAN  QUIRK'S  PROSPECTIVE  DUEL.  97 

ively  taking  the  lamp,  he  approached  the  mirror,  but  was 
horrified  as  he  looked  on  himself.  His  face  was  bloated  and 
haggard,  his  eyes  red  and  swollen,  and  big  drops  of  sweat 
stood  on  his  forehead.  Hastily  wiping  them  away  with  his 
handkerchief,  as  though  ashamed  of  the  recoil  of  the  flesh, 
he  made  a  desperate  effort  to  regain  the  mastery  of  himself. 
After  a  little  he  partially  succeeded.  He  then  drew  out  his 
watch,  a  repeater  glittering  with  stones,  and  marked  the  hour 
.  of  the  night ;  and  for  a  few  moments  watched  intently  the 
ceaseless  flight  of  time.  He  returned  it  to  his  fob,  and,  act- 
ing on  the  hint  of  Sir  George,  arranged  his  writing  materials 
and  seated  himself  at  his  table. 

He  dated  a  sheet  as  though  for  the  commencement  of  a 
letter,  and  mechanically  wrote  beneath : 

"  My  Dear  Mother." 

Strange  it  is  that  when  trouble  is  upon  one — when  Dis- 
ease holds  him  in  his  wasting  hand,  or  dangers  threaten  him, 
even  though  he  be  some  hardened  wretch,  deforming  instead 
of  beautifying  the  fair  fields  of  earth,  his  mind  will  turn  back 
to  her  who  gave  him  being.  She  will  be  remembered  with  the 
few,  in  his  last  farewell  to  the  world ;  and  around  the  recol- 
lection of  none  other  will  cluster  purer,  better  thoughts.  And 
yet  it  is  not  strange.  Mother !  Every  thing  kind  and  lovely 
and  noble  is  in  the  name ;  and  could  one  forget  his  mother, 
he  would  "he  no  longer  man.  He  would  have  lost  the  last 
ethereal  spark,  and  become  a  demon — less  than  a  brute,  for 
brutes  have  natural  aflfection. 

But  the  Major's  mother  had  been  dead  for  many  years  ;  and 
after  a  period  6f  abstraction,  during  which  he  sat  with  his 
head  braced  on  his  hands,  as  he  perceived  what  he  had  writ- 
ten, he  shuddered  at  the  omen.  Throwing  by  the  sheet,  he 
took  another,  and  with  great  firmness  and  deliberation  com- 
menced as  follows : 

5 


98  CAMP  FIRES   OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

"  The  last  Will  and  Testament  of " 


There  was  a  slight  tap  at  the  door,  and  Sir  George  Carl 
ton  and  Mr.  Gates  re-entered.  Walking  familiarly  up  to  the 
table,  their  eyes  rested  on  the  unfinished  writing. 

"  Nonsense  !  nonsense  !"  said  Sir  George,  cheerily.  "Throw- 
by  your  will,  Major,  and  take  a  new  lease  of  life." 

"  For  another  full  century,  at  least,"  thrust  in  Mr.  Gates. 

"  After  leaving  you,"  continued  Sir  George,  "  we  fell  in 
with  the  Don  ;  and  if  our  arrangement,  which  is  strictly 
honorable  to  both  parties,  meets  with  your  approval,  the  affair 
is  ended.     All  now  rests  with  you." 

A  change  came  over  the  countenance  of  the  Major. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest.  Sir  George  ?"  said  he,  with  evident 
tokens  of  doubt  and  trepidation. 

"  Never  more  so  in  my  life,"  replied  Sir  George.  "  Cas- 
sino  is  a  reasonable  man ;  and  I  ventured  to  assure  him  that 
you  were  another ;  and  that  the  difference  between  you  must 
have  originateji  in  some  mistake.  The  kernel  of  the  whole 
matter  is,  that  the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo  is  his  betrothed  wife. 
This  he  frankly  informed  me  ;  and  I  unhesitatingly  assured 
him  that  you  would  be  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  interfere 
with  a  contract,  unless  professionally,  in  behalf  of  a  client. 
Was  I  right  ?" 

"  You  are  always  right,"  said  the  Major,  grasping  Sir 
George  warmly  with  one  hand  and  Mr.  Gates  with  the  other. 
His  heart  was  too  full  for  further  utterance,  and  he  hung  on 
them  in  silence.  At  length,  suddenly  bounding  away  over 
the  floor,  he  clapped  his  hands  and  burst  into  a  triumphant 
laugh. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  exclaimed  he,  speaking  in  snatches  as 
his  merriment  permitted.  "  I  tell  you,  Sir  George— I  tell 
you,  Gates,  I  frightened  him  out  of  it !  You  recollect  what 
I  said  to  his  second !  The  bragging  Spaniard !  Had  we 
fought,  I  should  hiaye  muttoned  him  to  a  certainty !" 


MAJOR    VAN  QUIRK'S  PROSPECTIVE  DUEL.  99 

The  Major's  two  friends  received  these  declarations  with 
the  most  uproarious  mirth,  in  which  the  Major  himself  joined. 
They  shouted  and  stamped  and.  danced  about  the  floor,  amid 
successive  explosions  of  laughter,  until  they  were  exhausted 
and  could  laugh  no  more. 

"  Admirable  !  admirable  !"  at  length  exclaimed  Sir  George, 
through  his  tears.  "  The  Major  is  correct,  though  that  ver- 
sion of  the  matter  had  not  occurred  to  me  before.  I  see  it 
plain  enough  now." 

"  America  forever !"  shouted  Mr.  Gates,  though  his  voice, 
broken  by  his  convulsions,  was  little  more  than  a  squeaking 
whisper.     "  The  Yankee  has  whipped,  and  Spain  is  floored !" 

At  this  moment  a  servitor,  whom  the  two  gentlemen  had 
directed  to  follow  after  them,  entered,  bearing  on  his  arm  a 
basket  of  champagne  ;  and  though  it  was  now  in  the  small 
hours  of  the  night,  Major  Vgin  Quirk's  last  Will  and  Testa- 
ment was  unceremoniously  stuffed  into  a  drawer,  and  the 
three  friends  made  a  jubilee  and  a  morning  of  it,  around  his 
velvet-covered  table. 


IHK  SPANISH  PARTY  SUDDENLY  QUIT  THE  CITY.     THE  SCBKEBY  OP  THE  irUDSOW. 


'  Around  its  base  the  bare  rocks  stoodt 
Like  naked  gfauts  In  the  flood." 


THE  duel  which  was  not,  between  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cas- 
sino  and  Major  Van  Quirk,  soon  got  wind ;  and  in  the 
elucidation  of  that  event  it  was  commonly  reported  that  the 
difficulty  between  those  two  gentlemen  had  originated  in  a. 
copy  of  complimentary  verses,  which  the  gallant  Major  had 
picked  up  in  the  street,  procured  to  be  published,  and  sent  to 
the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo  as  his  own.  This  opened  the  door 
for  an  explanation  between  Charles  Warwick  and  Mr.  Zen- 
ger,  to  their  mutual  satisfaction ;  and  thus  was  another  antic- 
ipated passage-at-arms,  to  the  great  chagrin  of  the  gossip- 
mongers  of  the  city,  averted. 

Relieved  of  this  one  cause  of  disquietude,  Warwick,  nev- 
ertheless, still  found  himself  restless  and  unhappy.  Day 
after  day  passed  away,  and  nothing  occurred  to  satisfy  him 
of  the  exact  position  he  occupied  with  respect  to  the  Lady 
Viola.  She,  meanwhile,  was  lovely  as  ever,  but  much  of  her 
spirit  and  buoyancy  was  gone.  She  evidently  strove  to  be 
cheerful  and  merry,  but  there  was  something  concealed  which 
weighed  her  down  and  overmastered  her  strongest  efforts. 
Toward  Warwick,  since  the  night  of  the  Governor's  ball,  her 
deportment  had  been  restrained,  but  without  any  mixture  of 
unkindness.     She  steadily  manifested  her  regard  and  confi- 


SCENERY  OF  TEE  HUDSOK  lt^\ 

dence  in  him,  but  carefully  avoided  a  denouement.  Admirers 
thronged  and  flattered  her,  but  their  devotion  gave  her  no 
pleasure  ;  and  since  the  chivalrous  onset  of  Major  Van  Quirk, 
and  its  lugubrious  termination,  even  the  pretensions  of  the 
perpendicular  Colonel  McSpike,  which  were  becoming  quite 
notorious  in  the  city,  were  insufficient  to  provoke  a  smile. 

On  the  obtuse  Scotch  officer  the  whiskers  and  frowns  Of 
Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  which  kept  many  a  spark  at  bay, 
were  lost — absolutely  thrown  away.  With  whiskers  he  was 
familiar,  as  he  sported  a  goodly  pair  himself;  and  frowns  he 
feared  not ;  indeed,  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  he  ever 
observed  them.  He  was  a  bachelor  of  forty-five,  and  his 
thoughts  were  very  properly  engaged  with  his  lady-love, 
toward  whom  he  was  devoted  and  ardent,  but  scrupulously 
respectful.  Every  thing  portended  that  with  him  the  crisis 
had  nearly  arrived,  when,  to  the  general  surprise,  his  partic- 
ular attentions  ceased.  He  still  frequented  the  house,  and 
was  apparently  happy  as  ever,  and  no  one  attempted  to  ac- 
count for  the  sudden  change  in  his  conduct.  It  was  only 
known  that  he  had  been  closeted,  for  a  short  period,  with  his 
friend  Don  Manuel ;  and,  at  the  close  of  the  conference, 
retired  sullenly  to  his  lodgings,  and  for  that  night  refused  his 
second  bottle  and  cigar.  The  next  morning  his  appetite 
returned,  and  his  face  was  serene  again  as  the  yellow  moon, 
which  it  very  much  resembled. 

Suddenly  it  was  rumored  that  the  Spanish  party  were 
about  to  leave  the  city  ;  and  the  truth  of  the  report  was  im- 
mediately confirmed  to  Charles  Warwick  by  a  formal  ,an- 
nouncement  to  that  eflfect  from  Don  Manuel  himself.  That 
gentleman  stated  that  it  was  their  intention  to  proceed  up  the 
Hudson  River,  for  the  purpose  of  viewing  the  already  famous 
scenery  of  those  waters,  and  to 'embark  at  some  eastern  or 
Canadian  port  for  Europe. 

Warwick  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  be  surprised  that  his 


102  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

foreign  friends  were  about  turning  in  the  direction  of  home  ; 
and  yet  he  was  surprised.  The  passage  from  the  upper 
waters  of  the  Hudson  to  the  New  England  ports,  at  that  day, 
was  difficult ;  and  to  the  ports  of  Canada,  both  difficult  and 
dangerous  ;  while  the  chances  of  obtaining  a  comfortable  pas- 
sage for  Spain,  in  that  direction,  were  much  less  favorable 
than  at  New  York.  But  the  one  thought  that  he  was  about 
to  be  separated  from  the  Lady  Viola,  soon  overmastered  every 
other.  From  this  he  shrunk  with  a  feeling  of  desperation. 
And  yet  what  could  he  do  ?  Latterly  a  positive  fatality  had 
seemed  resting  on  their  intercourse.  Her  father  or  Don  Fer- 
dinand were  always  present.  And  yet,  were  he  to  solicit  a 
private  interview,  after  her  inexplicable  agitation  and  conduct 
when  he  declared  his  love,  and  her  obvious  desire  since  to 
avoid  the  subject,  what  could  he  say  ?  When  Don  Manuel 
announced  his  contemplated  departure,  she  was  present. 
Warwick  could  not  catch  her  eye,  but  he  perceived  she  was 
deeply  aiBected  ;  and  realized  at  once  that  she  was  in  as  much 
trouble  as  himself.  He  determined  to  seek  an  explanation, 
and  solution  of  his  own  destiny,  from  her  father. 

Before  this  resolve  was  carried  into  execution,  however, 
he  received  an  invitation  from  Don  Manuel  to  keep  them 
company  for  the  few  days  they  should  spend  on  the  Hudson. 
This  was  given  with  so  much  cordiality  and  earnestness,  as 
to  convince  Warwick  that,  so  far  as  Don  Manuel  was  con- 
cerned, the  separation  of  himself  from  his  daughter  formed 
no  part  of  the  motive  of  the  Spaniards  in  quitting  the  city. 
Could  it  be  that  Don  Manuel  had  remained  blind  to  the  con- 
dition of  affairs  between  himself  and  the  Lady  Viola?  It 
must  be  so,  or,  notwithstanding  any  relation  that  might  subsist 
between  Don  Ferdinand  and  his  daughter,  the  Spaniard  was 
willing  to  encourage  his  pretensions.  Warwick  perceived, 
as  the  invitation  was  given,  that  portentous  clouds  gathered 
on  the  countenance  of  Don  Ferdinand,  which  that  individual 


SCENERY  OF  TEE  HTTDSOHr.  103 

had  great  dilSiculty  in  silently  suppressing ;  but  he  also  per- 
ceived with  pleasure,  that  the  effect  on  the  Lady  Viola  was 
just  the  reverse.  The  shadows  for  the  moment  fled  from  her 
face ;  and  her  moist  eye,  speaking  more  than  she  intended, 
and  what  she  dared  not  utter  in  words,  but  could  not  restrain, 
met  his.  The  meeting  was  unintended  on  her  part,  and  yet 
both  knew  instantly  that  they  understood  each  other,  and 
even  she  could  not  regret  it.  Warwick  accepted  the  invita- 
tion. 

The  navigation  of  the  Hudson  River,  at  the  period  of  which 
we  write,  was  a  very  different  affair  from  what  it  is  at  present; 
when,  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours,  our  magnificent  palaces, 
which  we  call  steamboats,  sweep  over  its  whole  navigable 
length.  The  business  and  travel  of  these  waters,  at  that 
time,  were  conducted  mostly  in  sloops ;  and  a  voyage  from 
New  York  to  Albany,  at  best,  occupied  some  days,  and  occa- 
sionally weeks.  It  was  on  a  fair  morning  of  early  summer 
that  one  of  the  largest  and  most  commodious  of  this  sort  of 
craft,  which  had  been  chartered  for  the  purpose,  received  on 
board  the  Spaniards  with  their  long  train  of  attendants. 
Warwick,  having  bade  his  more  than  mother  a  kind  farewell, 
for  a  few  days,  was  with  them  ;  and  the  best  wishes  of  a 
multitude  of  friends  in  the  city  accompanied  them,  as  with 
spread  canvas  their  vessel  moved  from  the  quay.  Gradu- 
ally they  cleared  themselves  from  the  swarming  craft  of  the 
bay  and  the  bustle  of  the  little  city ;  and  slowly  they  left  the 
town  behind  them,  and  pushed  forward  on  the  bosom  of  the 
clear  river ;  and  no  accident  having  occurred  to  retard  their 
progress,  on  the  second  day  they  entered  the  wild  and  roman 
tic  scenery  ofthe  Highlands. 

To  Warwick,  all  this  was  familiar;  and  yet  it  had  lost 
none  of  its  charms.  To  his  companions  it  was  new,  and 
filled  them  with  rapture.  And  who,  indeed,  so  dull  to  the 
inspiring  aspects  of  nature,  when  witnessed  in  her  magnificent 


104  CAMP  FIRES  01'  THE  RED  MEN". 

creations,  as  to  be  able  to  pass  between  the  points  of  New- 
burgh  and  New  York,  over  the  glorious  Hudson,  though  it  be 
for  the  hundredth  time,  without  having  awakened  in  his  breast 
the  most  exalted  emotions  ?  Water  with  its  varying  life  and 
power,  rock,  toppling  crag  and  hill,  and  threatening  sky  and 
winds,  here  all  conspire  to  furnish  images  of  sublimity  and 
beauty.  To  enjoy  the  views  in  all  their  impressiveness,  one 
should  descend  the  river  at  night,  as  did  the  writer  of  this 
history  the  first  time  he  saw  the  Highlands.  It'was  a  night 
without  a  moon,  when  a  few  faint  stars  alone  rendered  near 
objects  indistinctly  visible.  The  vessel  was  one  of  the  proud- 
est steamboats  of  that  water ;  and  she  pushed  onward  with 
the  speed  of  a  race-horse,  though  a""stiff  gale  was  blowing  in 
her  teeth.  On  approaching  the  gorge  of  the  Highlands,  the 
wind,  compressed  in  a  narrow  channel,  came  with  redoubled 
force  ;  and  so  cutting  keen,  as  to  drive  every  passenger,  save 
one,  below.  He,  sick  and  alone,  holding  on  to  the  bow  of  the 
vessel,  as  she  plunged  among  those  dark,  threatening  hills, 
through  which  the  mighty  river  drives  its  course,  and  on 
whose  pointed  summits  the  irregular  patch  of  sky  which  was 
visible,  seemed  to  rest,  thought  not  of  exposure.  He  was  ^ 
spell-bound,  dumb.  The  steamer  swept  on,  and  fairly  entered 
the  gorge — ahead,  an  unknown  chasm,  an  abyss,  black  as  a 
thousand  midnights  ;  and  now,  shut  in,  the  same  was  behind ; 
with  no  sound,  save  the  terrible  wailing  of  the  winds,  the  roar 
of  the  struggling  floods,  and  the  desolate  creak,  creak,  of  the 
engines ;  while  with  all  the  massive  darkness  around,  the 
immense,  black,  interminable  peaks  above,  which  stretched 
hundreds  of  feet  overhead,  and  seemed  closing  to  overwhelm 
the  doomed  ship,  were  as  plainly  defined  on  the  sky,  as  though 
each  had  been  edged  with  a  border  of  fire.  With  him,  there 
was  an  undefined  dread,  that  the  vessel,  in  her  furious  career 
in  the  dark,  was  about  to  plunge  into  the  deep,  mysterious 
abysses  of  the  earth  ;  which  might  have  been  painful,  had  not 


80EKERY  OF  TBE  RUDSOK  105 

every  faculty  been  exhilarated  and  chained  by  the  grand  en- 
chantment of  the  scene. 

To  the  Lady  Viola  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson  was  full  of 
witchery  and  romance.  By  daylight  the  rougher  views  were 
shorn  of  most  of  their  terrors,  and  she  gazed  enraptured. 
Warwick  was  by  her  side,  to  explain,  to  give  her  the  name 
of  each  locality  ;  and  to  connect  with  many  a  valley  and  peak 
some  legendary  story. 

A  very  little  exercise  of  the  imagination  enabled  the  Span- 
iards to  recall  among  the  Highlands  objects  with  which  they 
were  familiar.  The  Palisades  they  likened  to  immense  lines 
of  fortifications,  constructed  on  a  scale  of  magnificence,  and 
frowning  with,  a  gloom  and  grandeur  which  their  own  famous 
country,  with  all  its  ancient  honors,  could  not  equal ;  while 
many  a  mountain  peak  presented  somewhere  on  its  side  an 
apparent  tower  or  crumbling  castle,  thus  oft  arraying  the 
landscapes  in  all  the  feudal  glories  of  the  East 

Doctor  Oquetos  has  been  mentioned  already  as  a  gentleman 
of  learning  and  parts.  He  was  of  an  original,  penetrating 
mind,  and  something  of  an  antiquary  withal ;  and  was  accord- 
ingly seized  with  an  ardent  desire  to  explore  these  heights, 
and  solve  the  mystery  of  the  seeming  fortifications  which  de- 
fended them.  He  was  only  driven  from  his  purpose,  at  last, 
by  exaggerated  fears  of  the  Indians.  Thereupon  he  became 
engaged  in  a  profound  discussion  with  Signor  Antonio,  the^ 
priest,  as  to  the  origin  of  the  ancient  works  scattered  through 
the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson  ;  he  maintaining,  with  great 
warmth  and  logic,  that  they  belonged  to  the  ancient  race  who 
once  inhabited  the  American  Continent,  and  built  the  great 
Pyramids  of  Mexico  ;  while  the  priest  argued  with  equal  zeal 
and  rhetoric,  that  they  were  of  the  handicraft  of  the  giants  of 
old. 

5* 


tx  ixUttix. 


LOOKING  TOWAED  THE  WILDERNESS.     A  CLOUD  AND  A  SEPARATION.. 


'  Farewell  I  farewell  I    The  living  lights  have  set, . 

The  8UU  hath  hid  him  in  the  ailent  sea  ; 
And  the  dull  moon  her  ofBce  doth  forget, 

To  cheer  us  with  her  beams  when  gone  Is  he. 

Farewell  1  farewell  I    Ah,  thus  is  hope  with  me.' 


THE  commerce  of  the  Hudson  at  the  middle  of  the  last  cen- 
tury was  already  considerable.  The  city  of  New  York, 
by  a  writer  of  that  period,  was  compared  to  a  hive  of  bees,  so 
industrious  and  stirring  was  its  population  ;  and  the  importance 
of  their  river,  as  a  vast  internal  thoroughfare,  which,  with 
their  capacious  and  excellent  harbor,  was  to  give  them  a  su- 
periority over  other  American  sea-ports,  was  already  seen  in 
perspective.  Frequent  vessels  dotted  the  bosom  of  the  river, 
laden  with  a  great  variety  of  products  and  merchandise :  peltry, 
the  produce  of  the  Indian  fur  trade,  the  center  of  which  was 
at  Fort  Oswego  ;  lumber,  wheat,  and  all  the  variety  of  grains  ; 
butter  from  Orange,  which,  even  at  that  early  day,  was  al- 
ready famous  for  the  article  ;  cheese,  livestock,  and  all  the 
native  and  domestic  produce  of  an  extensive  and  fertile  coun- 
try ;  together  with  powder  and  shot,  blankets,  trinkets,  and 
spirits  for  the  Indians ;'  and  dry-goods,  groceries,  and  muni- 
tions for  the  towns  and  settlers  in  the  valleys  of  the  Hudson 
and  Mohawk,  and  the  frontier  stations  and  forts. 

A  return  from  the  North  was  therefore  easy  ;  and  Warwick 
had  intended  to  accompany  his  friends  at  least  to  Albany ; 
when,  having  been  already  several  days  on  the  river,  delayed 


THE  DEOLABATION.  107 


by  calms  and  head  winds,  and  pausing  to  cull  each  cluster  of 
flowers  from  the  rocks,  and  view  each  fairy  prospect  by  the 
way,  the  sloop  came  to  anchor  near  the  point  where  now 
stands  the  thriving  town  of  Newburgh.  Several  respectable 
farms  and  farm-houses  skirted  the  shore ;  and  here  Don 
Manuel  declared  it  his  intention  to  debark  and  pursue  his 
journey  by  land.  He  even  proposed  to  push  beyond  ihe  set- 
tlements quite  into  the  interior  of  the  wilderness,  and  shape 
his  course  for  Montreal. 

For  the  second  time  Warwick  was  surprised  at  the  plans 
of  his  friends.  Thinking  they  might  be  ignorant  of  the  dangers 
to  which  a  proceeding  of  this  kind  would  subject  them,  he 
explained  to  them  the  warlike  character  of  the  Six  Nations, 
through  whose  territories  they  would  have  to  pass  ;  and  in- 
formed them  that  those  tribes  were  already  in  a  highly  irri- 
tated and  inflammable  condition,  and  extremely  jealous  of  in- 
trusion, or  foreign  interference  of  any  sort.  In  reply,  Don 
Ferdinand  tauntingly  reminded  him  that  a  Spaniard,  with  a 
few  hundred  men,  had  conquered  populous  Mexicp ;  and  ex- 
pressed a  readiness  himself,  with  their  present  force,  to  march 
through  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  Confederacy. 
Don  Manuel  also  seemed  to  treat  the  idea  of  danger  lightly ; 
and  Warwick,  perceiving  that  there  was  a  mystery  connected 
with  the  movements  of  the  Spaniards,  which  he  did  not  un- 
derstand, refrained  from  further  obtruding  his  opinions.  It 
was  obvious,  however,  that  the  time  of  separation  between  him 
and  the  Lady  Viola  was  at  hand. 

Accommodations  for  the  principal  persons  of  the  party  were 
obtained  for  a  single  night,  at  the  main  dwelling  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  which  was  the  residence  of  a  Scotchman  by  the  name 
of  Cameron.  During  the  evening,  Warwick  strove  to  obtain 
a  few  moments  of  private  conversation  with  Viola,  but  in  vain. 
Don  Ferdinand  was  ever  on  the  watch,  and  evidently  determ- 
'ned  to  prevent  it ;  and  as  he  noted  the  chagrin  and  sadness 


108  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEW. 

which,  as  the  hours  j*vore  away,  gathered  in  spite  of  him,  on 
the  face  of  the  young  American,  he  could  not  \yell  repress  his 
exultation.  He  gave  expression  to  the  feeling  in  various 
ways — by  look  and  word  and  gesture — but  all  so  cunningly 
guarded  as  to  mean  any  thing  or  nothing,  save  that  each  one 
bore  its  sting.  Warwick,  while  he  retained  as  composed  a 
surface  as  possible,  was  well-nigh  furious. 

The  night,  to  our  hero  a  sleepless  one,  passed  off,  and  the 
morning  came.  Determined  on  an  explanation,  determined 
to  understand  his  ground  before  he  should  part  company  with 
his  Spanish  friends,  he  so^ught  an  interview  with  Don  Manuel 
and  while  the  men  were  debarking  with  the  baggage,  the  two 
walked  up  along  the  river  bank  together. 

They  promenaded  for  some  distance  in  silence,  which,  per- 
ceiving that  the  youth  was  at  a  loss  and  not  exactly  at  his 
ease,  the  Spaniard  was  the  first  to  break. 

"  We  are  about  to  part.  Captain  Warwick,"  said  he,  "  un- 
less you  consent  to  share  the  dangers  of  the  forest  and  the 
Indians  with  us,  of  which  you  have  given  us  so  vivid  a  pic- 
ture ;  but  wherever  we  may  go,  whatever  may  befall  us,  what- 
ever oceans  or  continents  may  divide  us,  we  shall  always  beaT 
in  warm  and  grateful  remembrance  our  excellent  American 
friend,  to  whom  so  heavy  a  weight  of  obligation  is  due — to 
whom  we  owe  life,  and  consequently  all  besides." 

Pained  at  these  expressions,  for  the  moment,  Warwick  was 
at  a  loss  for  words  to  reply ;  and  Don  Manuel  continued  : 

"  You  have  said  that  at  some  future  period  you  may  visit 
Europe.  God  grant  that  we  may  there  again  meet !  It  would 
be  the  pleasure,  as  it  should  be  the  business,  of  my  life,  to  re- 
pay to  you  some  small  portion  of  our  obligations." 

"  No  more  of  this,  my  dear  sir,  I  implore  you  !"  exclaimed 
Warwick.  "  You  mistake  me !  you  overwhelm  me !  And 
though  I  ardently  hope  and  pray  that  we  may  hereafter  meet, 
I  beg  of  you  as  you  value  my  feelings,  to  say  no  more,  and 


TBE  DECLARATION.  109 


think  no  more,  of  the  slight  services  which  a  kind  Providence 
enabled  me  to  render,  and  which  your  generosity  induces  you 
very  much  to  magnify.'     But,  sir "  ^ 

"  But  what  ?" 

"  There  is  a  subject  I  would  gladly  recommend  to  your  fa- 
vorable ear ;  a  boon  I  would  ask,  could  it  be  granted,  above 
all  price  to  me." 

"  Go  on  !"  said  Don  Manuel.     "  It  is  granted  ere  spoken." 

"  At  least,  sir,  before  we  separate,  for  my  own  peace  of 
mind  and  the  government  of  my  future  actions,  I  desire  a  frank 
explanation,  on  one  point,  from  the  father  of  the  Lady  Viola." 

"  What  has  my  daughter  to  do  with  the  matter?"  said  Don 
Manuel,  quickly. 

"  I  love  her." 

The  hand  of  the  Spaniard  rung  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword  at 
the  instant  of  this  declaration  ;  but  chepking  himself  he  drew 
haughtily  back,  as  in  a  tone  of  surprise  mixed  with  contempt, 
which  he  could  not  wholly  conceal,  he  said : 

"  You,  sir  ?"  -  ^ 

The  action  and  the  word  operated  like  magic  on  the  free 
American,  whom  no  blood  nor  king  had  ennobled,  and  whom 
no  stamp,  save  that  of  God  and  his  own  honest  acts,  had  im- 
pressed as  a  man.  His  eyes  flashed  with  a  stream  of  indig- 
nant fire,  but  his  bearing  instantly  became  calm  and  self-pos- 
sessed. Elevating  his  tall  person,  he  stood  with  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast ;  and  the  Spaniard  perceived  that  he  was 
confronted  by  one  as  proud  as  himself.  A  moment's  reflection 
made  Don  Manuel  regret  his  harshness. 

"  Forgive  me,  young  man,"  he  said.  "  I  was  wrong  to 
shape  my  reply  to  you  in  uncourteous  language.  And  not- 
withstanding the  opinions  of  the  world  in  which  I  hav&  been 
educated,  I  am  free  to  confess  that  the  savior  of  the  life  of  my 
daughter  is  in  every  way  worthy  of  her.  But  Viola,  in  this 
respect,  is  beyond  my  control.     She  is  aflianced;  and  in  the 


110  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

sight  of  the  Church  and  of  Heaven  is  already  the  wife  of 
another." 

"  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  ?"  said  Warwick. 

"  The  same." 

"  Will  the  contract  be  ratified  1" 

"  It  will." 

"  Your  daughter  and  myself,  then,  Don  Manuel  Torrillo," 
said  Warwick,  impressively,  "  have  already  seen  each  other 
quite  too  much  for  the  happiness,  perhaps,  of  both  our  future 
lives.  That  I  learned  to  love  her,  you  can  not  wonder.  That 
she  should  love  me,  as  I  believe  she  does,  is,  perhaps,  more 
of  a  marvel.  But  here  we  part.  I  would  see  her  once  more  ; 
but  I  perceive,  under  the  present  aspect  of  affairs,  that  it  might 
not  be  wise  for  either.  You  will  bear  her  my  adieus  ;  and  1 
say  to  you,  that  I  love  her  more  than  1  ever  have,  or  ever  can 
again,  love  any  human  being.  Tell  her  whatever  you  may 
deem  prudent ;  only  let  my  leave-taking  be  kind.  And  now, 
farewell !" 

Warwick  hurriedly  took  Don  Manuel's  hand  ;  and  the  Span- 
iard, whose  better  feelings  were  aroused,  almost  convulsively 
clung  to  him.  He  besought  him  not  to  leave  them  so  ab- 
ruptly ;  to  see  Viola,  and  receive  an  expression  of  her  thanks, 
once  more,  before  his  departure  ;  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
protestations  of  obligation  and  esteem.  In  the  midst  of  these 
the  youth  broke  away,  and  while  the  Spaniard  shouted  after 
him,  disappeared  among  the  trees  which  skirted  the  shore. 

Don  Manuel,  with  a  cloud  on  his  brow,  and  misgivings  of 
mind  to  which  he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger,  slowly  and 
thoughtfully  turned  to  seek  his  daughter. 


ajjtn  Si^tun. 


THB  SPANISH  CAVALCADE.     SIGHTS  AND  SOUNDS  OP  AN  AMERICAN  WOOD. 


'  Hark  !  I  hear  the  traveler's  song, 
As  he  winds  the  woods  along  ! 
Christian  !  'tis  the  song  of  fear — 
Wolves  are  round  thee,  night  is  near ; 
And  the  wild  thou  dar'at  to  roam — 
Oh  !  'twas  once  the  Indians'  home  !" 


THE  Lady  Viola,  from  the  window  of  her  chamber  at  Mr. 
Cameron's,  had  observed  her  father  and  Charles  Warwick 
as  they  walked  out  together,  and  more  than  suspected  the  ob- 
ject of  the  young  American.  She  also  saw  her  father  as  he 
returned  alone,  and  was  able  very  accurately  to  divine  the  re- 
sult of  their  conference.  She  even  suspected  that  it  had  come 
to  an  abrupt  termination ;  and  that  she  should  see  Charles 
Warwick  no  more.  Though  deeply  affected,  she  resolutely 
summoned  all  the  strength  of  mind  she  possessed  to  her  aid, 
and  met  her  father,  on  his  entrance,  at  least  with  an  outward 
show  of  composure, 

"  My  daughter,"  said  he,  very  kindly,  our  friend  and  bene- 
factor, Captain  Warwick,  has  left  us  this  morning,  on  his  re- 
turn to  New  York." 

"What!  without  one  word  of  farewell?"  said  Viola  ;  and 
her  cheek  blanched  in  spite  of  her. 

"  He  thought,  doubtless,"  returned  Don  Manuel,  eyeing  her 
closely,  "  that  a  ceremonious  leave-taking  could  conduce  to  no 
good  ;  and  such  farewells,  my  dear,  are  always  painful.  Are 
you  ill,"my  child  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  said  Viola,  faintly.     "  And  still 


112  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  BED  MEK 

She  stopped  abruptly,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
while  her  whole  frame  shook  with  agitation.  He  gave  her 
water,  and  salts  to  smell ;  and  besought  her  to  be  calm.  Re- 
covering a  little,  she  continued  : 

"  It  is  very  strange,  dear  father,  that  Captain  Warwick 
should  leave  us  in  this  manner.  We  are  too  much  indebted 
to  him  to  make  such  a  parting  pleasant.  I  could  certainly 
have  wished  to  thank  him  once  more  for  the  life  he  saved. '^ 

"  God  will  reward  him,  Viola,"  said  her  father.  "  Heaven 
will  smile  on  the  path  of  that  young  man,  and  scatter  it  full 
with  blessings.  Unfortunately,  our  debt  to  him  is  one  of  those 
which  can  never  be  repaid.  Our  thanks,  our  affectionate  re- 
gard, our  gratitude,  he  must  ever  have.  He  sent  you,  by  the 
hand  of  your  father,  my  child,  his  most  kind  and  loving  adieus." 

Viola  burst  into  tears  ;  and  Don  Manuel,  thoughtful  and 
troubled,  spent  some  time  in  fruitless  endeavors  to  console 
her.  On  being  left  to  herself  she  gave  full  vent  to  her  grief 
in  a  hearty  outbreak  of  sobs  and  tears,  which  relieved  her ; 
but  two  or  three  hours  after,  as  the  party  was  about  getting 
under  way,  and  a  mule  was  brought  up  to  the  door  for  her  to 
mount,  she  had  barely  recovered  her  composure. 

The  preparation  and  the  march  had  been  placed  under  the 
immediate  command  and  direction  of  Michael  Johnson.  Oc- 
cupied with  the  duties  of  the  morning,  that  individual  until  the 
present  moment  had  not  been  able  to  assure  himself  of  the 
positive  absence  of  Charles  Warwick.  Falling  in  with  Don 
Ferdinand  he  inquired  concerning  him. 

"  Captain  Warwick  has  decamped,"  replied  the  Spaniard, 
with  a  sneer. 

"  Decamped  ?"  said  Johnson  with  surprise.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  the  boy  has  run  away  T' 

*'  I  mean  that  he  has  taken  French  leave,"  returned  Don 
Ferdinand,  tartly;  "and  where  he  may  be,  by  this  time, 
Heaven  can  witness,  I  know  as  little  as  I  care." 


THE  WILD    WOODS.  113 


"  Don  Ferdinand,"  said  Johnson  gravely,  while  suspicions 
of  the  worst  import  flashed  across  his  mind,  "  1  hope  no  evil 
has  befell  the  lad.  'Tis  not  in  nater  for  him  to  run  away,  or 
be  skeared  off;  and  I  tell  you,  if  you  have  played  foul  with 
him,  you  shall  answer  for  it." 

"  Caitiff!"  exclaimed  Don  Ferdinand,  black  with  rage. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  such  language  to  me  ?  Down  on  your 
knees  !  down,  old  man !  and  ask  pardon  for  the  insolence  of 
your  tongue." 

"  I  kneel  to  none  but  God,"  said  Johnson,  quite  unmoved 
at  this  display  of  passion.  "  But  have  I  wronged  you,  Don 
Ferdinand  ?" 

"  Knave !"  said  Don  Ferdinand,  between  his  compressed 
teeth,  and  at  the  same  time  approaching  him  in  a  menacing 
attitude.  "  Were  it  not  for  your  gray  hairs,  I  would  force 
you  down.     You  shall  repent  of  this." 

"  Don't  waste  your  threats,  young  man,"  said  Johnson.  "  If 
I've  wronged  you,  I'm  ready  to  undo  it.  Forgive  and  forget 
is  my  rule  :  so  let  there  be  peace  between  us.  A  man  can't 
always  govern  his  thoughts ;  and  mine,  good  or  bad,  are  very 
apt  to  come  to  my  tongue." 

"  Now  you  have  found  your  senses  again,  Michael,  and  ac- 
knowledged your  error,"  said  Don  Ferdinand,  "  I  will  tell  you 
all  I  know  about  the  disappearance  of  Captain  Warwick.  But 
first  allow  me  to  inquire  why  it  is  that  you  feel  so  deep  an  in- 
terest in  that  individual  ?" 

•    "  I  hardly  know,"  replied  Johnson  ;  "  but  most  sartainly  I 
like  him." 

"  To  me  he  seems  an  empty,  conceited  puppy,"  said  Don 
Ferdinand.  "  I  could  not  learn  that  he  ever  had  a  father  ; 
unless,  perhaps,  as  some  surmised,  he  may  be  a  catch  of  a 
night,  of  the  old  British  officer  who  adopted  him." 

"  Captain  Warwick's  a  whole  man  of  himself,"  said  John- 
son ;  "  and  so  far  as  that's  consarned,  it  don't  matter  whether  he 


114  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

ever  had  any  father  or  mother  at  all.  I  like  him  because  he's 
ginerous  and  brave ;  because  he  risked  his  own  life  to  save 
yours  ;  because  he  took  the  Lady  Viola  from  my  arms  on  that 
same  awful  night,  and  enabled  me  to  save  Don  Manuel ;  be- 
cause  :" 

"Enough!  enough!"  interrupted  Don  Ferdinand.  "  I  did 
not  ask  for  a  history  of  the  gentleman's  life.  Neither  do  I 
deny  my  obligation  to  him.  But,  good  Michael,  let  me  whis-- 
per  a  word  in  your  ear.  Were  I  in  peril  again,  I  would  much 
rather  die  than  that  his  should  be  the  hand  to  draw  me  from  it." 

Torn  with  conflicting  emotions,  Don  Ferdinand  paused  for 
a  moment,  and  then  added  : 

"  With  respect  to  the  departure  of  this  person,  it  is  said  that 
he  has  returned  to  New  York ;  that  his  sudden  exit  from 
among  us  was  occasioned  by  some  high  words  which  occurred 
between  him  and  Don  Manuel  this  morning,  in  which  they 
nearly  drew  their  swords  on  each  other.  The  cause  I  have 
not  learned.  Doubtless  our  friend  Don  Manuel,  however,  was 
altogether  in  fault." 

With  another  sneer,  Don  Ferdinand  turned  away ;  and 
Johnson,  though  his  suspicions  were  not  wholly  allayed, 
deemed  it  prudent,  at  the  moment,  to  push  his  inquiries  no 
further. 

The  Spanish  party,  when  drawn  up  in  the  order  of  march, 
presented  somewhat  of  a  warlike  appearance  ;  and  attracted 
the  curious  eyes,  and  greatly  excited  the  wonder,  of  the  peace- 
ful inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood.  Each  man  was  armed 
to  the  teeth.  In  the  forefront  was  the  stalwart  Johnson  ;  the 
good  leader,  on  whose  hardihood  and  courage,  on  whose  pru- 
dence in  avoiding  dangers,  and  wisdom  in  surmounting  them, 
and  acquaintance  with  the  country  to  be  traversed,  were  based 
their  expectations  of  a  favorable  issue  to  their  undertaking. 
Next  came  the  rank  and  file,  two  by  two,  numbering  some  four- 
score of  well-appointed  men  ;  and  following  them,  mounted  on 


ictin  with  WOdD^  115 


horses  and  mules,  were  the  persons  of  note  and  females,  Don 
Manuel  and  his  daughter  and  maids,  Don  Ferdinand,  and  the 
doctor  and  priest.  Still  coming  after  were  the  led  horses, 
laden  with  provisions,  baggage  and  tent  cloths,  munitions,  and 
all  the  various  articles  common  to  a  camp  ;  while  a  guard  of  a 
few  men  brought  up  the  rear.  As  a  whole,  the  party  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  a  military  expedition,  rather  than  a 
simple  company  of  travelers. 

For  a  time  as  they  receded  from  the  river,  they  were  still 
cheered  with  the  sight  of  an  occasional  cleared  field  ;  but  as 
they  advanced,  these  signs  of  the  vicinity  of  civilized  man  dis- 
appeared, and  all  that  remained  as  a  witness  that  the  white 
man  had  ever  trod  those  wilds  was  the  blaze,  or  mark  of  his 
axe,  on  some  tree  of  the  forest.  Their  course  was  westerly  ; 
and  Johnson,  avoiding  the  more  hilly  regions,  led  them  at  a 
very  leisurely  pace  through  ever-changing  prospects  of  low- 
land valley  and  stream.  When  night  came,  they  cleared  a 
little  spot  from  its  under  brush,  spread  their  tents,  and  slept 
in  quiet  and  safety. 

On  the  following  day,  the  landscape  became  more  rugged 
and  broken.  Hills  presented  themselves  in  their  path,  over 
which,  as  they  could  not  always  avoid  them,  they  were  some- 
times forced  to  wind  their  toilsome  way.  From  their  tops 
mountains  arose  in  the  distance,  spurs  and  straggling  ridges 
of  the  Catskills  ;  and  between  would  lie  spread  scenery  so 
soft,  and  wild,  and  beautiful,  that  a  painter  would  gladly  have 
caught  it  to 'give  it  life.  Here  a  small  lake  with  waters  of 
transparent  clearness,  and  borders  fringed  with  green,  lay 
sleeping  among  the  hills  ;  but  sent  off  from  its  blue  bosom 
chattering  rivulet,  tumbling  in  frequent  cascades,  and  meander- 
ing through  somber  ravines,  until  it  reached  the  lower  valleys, 
where,  making  soft  music,  it  coiled  among  the  willows  which 
dipped  their  blossoms  in  its  gentle  tide,  and  was  lost  to  sight 
In  the  distance.    In  another  spot  their  way  would  be  obstruct 


116  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

ed  by  a  profusion  of  jagged  stones,  laying  in  confusion  around, 
as  though  broken  and  scattered  by  some  convulsion  of  nature  ; 
and  again,  by  huge,  naked  rocks,  with  bare  brows,  worn  smooth 
by  the  storms  of  ages,  and  venerable  sides,  where  a  little  pale 
moss  was  clinging,  and  where,  perhaps,  from  some  crevice  a 
single  honeysuckle  waved.  These  cast  threatening  shadows 
upon  them,  and  sometimes  opened  in  frightful  precipices  at 
their  feet. 

Contrasted  with  these  rougher  scenes  were  the  wide  valleys 
through  which  they  passed,  uplifted  with  gentle  swells,  trav- 
ersed by  silver  streams,  and  robed  in  one  full  mantle  of  rejoic- 
ing vegetation.  Here,  perhaps,  on  a  gentle  acclivity  lying  off 
to  the  sweet  south,  was  an  extensive  grove  of  the  sugar-tree, 
the  towering  maple,  one  of  the  most  valuable,  as  it  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful,  of  the  trees  of  our  American  forests  ;  and  near 
by  a  cluster  of  the  beech,  with  smooth  and  variegated  trunks, 
swelling  with  fatness,  while  the  crown  of  the  eminence  would 
be  covered  with  the  mast-like  and  evergreen  pine.  In  the 
space  of  a  few  acres  would  be  seen,  flourishing  in  wild  lux- 
uriance, set  thick  and  mingled  together  so  that  their  branches 
would  interlock,  arrayed  in  every  shade  of  green  known  to 
nature,  nearly  every  variety  of  tree  belonging  to  the  latitude 
and  the  country :  the  oak,  the  elm,  the  maple,  the  beech,  the 
hickory,  the  chestnut,  with  its  sunny  flowers ;  the  cedar,  with 
its  scented  wood ;  the  spruce,  the  odorous  locust,  with  its  scol- 
loped leaves ;  the  tulip-tree,  and  many  more ;  while  a  little 
apart,  on  the  bank  of  some  stream,  the  willow  would  wave  its 
thread-like  stems  in  the  wind,  and  the  sycamore  spread  its 
great  white  supplicating  arms  to  the  sky. 

Sometimes  our  travelers  found  themselves  threading  a  long 
vista  of  the  forest,  shut  in  by  an  umbrageous  canopy  formed 
by  the  giant  monarchs  of  the  wood,  where  the  rays  of  the  sun 
never  penetrated  and  a  perpetual  twilight  reigned.  Often  the 
timid  deer  bounded  i'rom  their  path,  disturbed  as  he  was  sleep- 


THE  WILD    WOODS.  117 


ing  in  the  shade  or  drinking  at  some  stream  or  spring  ;  and, 
again,  the  wild  turkey,  singly  or  in  flocks,  startled  at  their  ap- 
proach, raised  high  his  jeweled  head,  and  gobbling  his  sur- 
prise with  mock  dignity  would  slowly  strut  away,  but  anon, 
quickening  his  pace  and  breaking  into  a  run,  or  mounting 
some  old  log  or  convenient  stone,  with  much  ado  he  would 
raise  his  awkward  body  into  the  air,  and  with  heavy  flight  and 
sounding  wings  bear  away  through  the  trees.  Sometimes 
they  would  come  suddenly  upon  the  drumming  partridge,  with 
her  Indian  brood,  when  the  mother-bird,  with  the  sly  instinct 
of  her  nature,  to  draw  attention  from  her  young,  would  bound 
twenty  feet  away  like  a  ball,  and  there  hop  and  flutter  and 
tumble  on  the  ground,  as  though  engaged  in  a  furious  combat 
with  some  invisible  foe.  On  approaching  her,  however,  she 
would  fly  off"  on  quick  and  whirring  wing,  and  it  is  needless  to 
add  that  her  equally  cunning  progeny  were  nowhere  to  be 
found.  *0f  the  color  of  the  dry  leaves,  they  would  shrink 
among  them  motionless,  as  though  dead,  and  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  forest  would  easily  escape  detection.  The  sportive 
squirrel,  the  red,  black,  and  gray,  with  the  little  chipper  chip- 
muck, disturbed  in  their  solitudes,  with  plumy  tails  waving, 
were  constantly  dodging  around  and  chattering  defiance, 
while  the  flying  squirrel  leaped  from  tree  to  tree,  performing 
prodigies  of  daring  above  their  heads.  The  kingly  eagle 
looked  down  in  wonder  from  his  eyrie  ;  the  pigeon  darted  by, 
his  purple  breast  flashing  as  he  went ;  the  robin  hopped  from 
limb  to  limb,  and  sung  his  songs,  at  once  ready  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  man  ;  the  blackbird  gave  them  his  simple  lay 
from  the  tree-top,  and  the  lark  his  morning  carol  from  the 
sky.  The  wild-goose  and  loon  screamed  from  the  lake  ;  the 
turtle-dove  uttered  his  plaintive  notes  from  the  dell ;  the  quail, 
that  vulgar  weather-prophet,  piped  his  cry  of  more  wet,  or  no 
more  wet,  as  his  sage  opinion  at  the  moment  might  happen  to 
be ;  while  the  melancholy  whip-poor-will,  from  his  solitary 


1  i  8  CAMP  FIBES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

bush,  poured  forth  his  soul  of  sadness  in  the  twilight,  and  the 
stupid  but  pretentious  owl  hooted  and  whistled  at  them  in  the 
jiight. 

But  frequently  the  party  was  saluted  with  sights  and  sounds 
of  a  less  agreeable  and  more  startling  character.  Occasion- 
B-Uy  the  gaunt  wolf  trotted  out  of  their  path,  looking  back 
wishfully  as  he  departed  ;  the  black  bear  was  disturbed  in  his 
covert,  and  sent  forth  his  hideous  growl ;  and  the  panther  and 
the  wild-cat  would  spring  angrily  to  some  tree,  where  they 
would  crouch,  with  flashing  eyes  and  open  jaws,  in  readiness 
for  a  flying  descent  on  their  unexpected  foes ;  or  some  solitary 
Indian,  with  naked  bust  and  immovable  countenance,  would 
look  out  from  behind  a  tree,  or  down  from  some  height,  upon 
them  as  they  passed. 

The  Lady  Viola,  though  ill  at  ease,  and  called  to  the  en 
durance  of  fatigue  much  beyond  her  wont,  could  not  but  enjoy 
these  rough,  but,  it  must  be  confessed,  most  fascinating  dis- 
plays of  forest-life  and  scenery.  The  summer  winds,  playing 
on  the  boughs  and  vines  for  harp-strings  ;  mountain,  valley 
and  stream,  in  constant  change  ;  the  -profusion  of  animal  and 
vegetable  life  ;  the  immense  size,  and  especially  height,  of 
American  trees  ;  the  variety  and  beauty  of  the  wild  flowers  ; 
the  thousand  birds,  with  their  songs  ;  and  even  the  beasts  of 
prey,  and  their  miniature  resemblances,  the  squirrels,  sport- 
ing so  thickly  around,  were  all  to  her  fountains  of  soothing 
and  pleasure.  The  bouquets  which  she  received  as  offerings 
in  these  wilds  were  neither  few  nor  meagre.  Her  father 
culled  flowers  for  her  with  a  lover's  eye  ;  and  Don  Ferdinand, 
lot  to  be  outdone,  fastened  to  the  frontlets  of  her  mule  a 
nosegay  of  such  size  as  almost  to  conceal  the  animal's  head  ; 
while  the  rugged  Johnson  would  stop  for  her  to  come  up,  and 
with  a  smile  of  parental  kindness  and  the  gentleness  of  a  wo- 
man, would  present  her  with  a  tuft  or  garland  twisted  from 
the  leaves  and  blossoms  of  his  country.     Among  these  the 


THE   WILD    WOODS.  119 


wild  rose,  the  honeysuckle,  and  the  violet,  all  full  of  breathing 
perfumes,  would  be  bound  up  with  the  lily,  the  ground-pine, 
and  the  winter-green,  still  retaining  its  red  and  fragrant  berry. 
Though  neither  wild  beasts  nor  Indians  had  sufficed  to 
alarm  the  Lady  Viola,  it  is  not  to  be  concluded  that  she  was 
absolutely  above  the  sentiment  of  fear.  On  the  second  night 
of  their  encampment,  in  the  somber  hour  of  twilight,  while  the 
men  were  still  busy  erecting  the  tents,  and,  to  satisfy  the 
military  habits  of  Don  Manuel,  surrounding  them  with  a  bar- 
ricade of  brush-wood  ;  and  she  and  heic  maid  Ruby  were  a  few 
rods  away,  essaying  to  swing  themselves  on  a  grape-vine,  the 
maid  suddenly  uttered  a  shriek  of  terror  and  sunk  prostrate  on 
the  ground.  As  she  fell,  she  both  looked  and  pointed  in  a 
certain  direction,  and  the  Lady  Viola,  on  turning  that  way, 
discovered  the  outline  of  a  man,  who  immediately  disappeared 
in  the  forest.  On  coming  to  herself  Ruby  averred  that  the 
stranger  bore  the  face  and  figure  of  Captain  Warwick,  where- 
upon the  Lady  Viola  became  as  deeply  agitated  as  her  maid. 
Unable  to  account  for  the  phenomenon,  however,  and  placing 
but  a  slight  reliance  on  the  accuracy  of  her  servant's  vision, 
at  that  hour,  she  put  Ruby  under  an  injunction  of  silence  oa 
the  subject,  and  retired  thoughtful  and  troubled  to  her  tent. 


ni^ttx  Btiitnittn 


THE  SIX  NATIONS  OK  THE  RED  MEN.     DON  FERDINAND  MAKES  AN  UNEXPECTED 
ACQUAINTANCE.     TAB  SPANISH  CAMP. 


"  This  land  Is  oui-s— so,  stand  ye  back  1" 


IT  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Michael  Johnson  was  conduct- 
ing the  Spaniards  into  the  immediate  territories  of  the  Six 
Nations  without  some  apprehension  as  to  the  result.  He 
well  knew  the  character  and  power  of  the  Confederacy  ;  that 
from  a  long  series  of  encroachments,  they  had  become  ex- 
tremely jealous  of  intrusion  ;  that  they  were  well  supplied 
with  fire-arms,  and  were  skilled  in  the  use  of  their  weap- 
ons ;  and  that  their  courage,  which  even  among  their  civilized 
neighbors  had  given  them  the  appellation  of  the  Romans  of 
the  West,  was  undoubted ;  but,  unfortunately,  he  had  entirely 
failed  to  make  Don  Manuel  and  Don  Ferdinand  understand  the 
ground  of  his  apprehensions.  With  them,  savages  were  sav- 
ages ;  and  they  could  form  no  conception  of  a  race  of  abori- 
gines, hardier  in  body  and  mind,  and  approaching  far  nearer 
their  own  standard  of  soldiership,  than  the  effeminate  tribes 
which  the  warriors  of  Spain  had  so  readily  subjugated  at  the 
South.  Johnson,  therefore,  was  obliged  to  content  himself 
with  moving  warily  forward,  while  he  hoped  for  the  best ;  and 
in  his  calculations  of  success,  it  is  certain  he  depended  much 
on  his  own  knowledge  of  Indian  character,  and  his  personal 
acquaintance  and  influence  with  the  very  tribes  with  whom 
the^  were  likely  to  come  in  contact,  which,  though  long,  long 


DON  FERDINANL  FORMS  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.  121 

years  had  intervened,  he  doubted  not,  should  need  be,  would 
stand  him  in  good  stead. 

For  some  days  the  party  kept  steadily  on  its  course,  bear- 
ing gradually  to  the  north.  At  length,  striking  a  considerable 
branch  of  the  Delaware  River,  they  turned  to  the  left,  and 
pursued  their  way  leisurely  down  its  valley.  Thus  far  they 
had  seen  little  of  the  natives,  and  met  with  no  interruption 
from  them  whatever.  Here,  however,  they  fell  in  with  a  small 
hunting  party,  with  whom,  as  Johnson  was  able  to  converse 
with  them  in  their  own  tongue,  by  prudent  management,  a 
friendly  intercourse  was  established.  A  traffic  ensued,  which 
by  the  time  they  approached  the  Delaware  itself,  furnished 
them  with  a  sufficient  and  grateful  supply  of  the  common 
fruits  and  vegetables  of  the  season. 

Latterly  the  face  of  the  country  had  considerably  changed. 
The  hills  had  become  more  prominent,  and  often  exposed 
their  bald,  brown  heads  defenseless  to  the  storms.  Their 
sides  were  covered  with  laurel  and  trees  of  a  small  growth ; 
and  a  like  vegetation  frequently  prevailed  in  the  more  elevated 
portions  of  the  lowlands;  while  in  other  parts  the  tall  white 
pine  and  hemlock  stretched  away  in  dense  and  extensive  forests. 

It  was  about  mid-day :  the  Delaware  was  near  at  hand,  and 
the  Spaniards  for  the  last  hour  had  been  cheered  with  an  oc- 
casional glimpse  of  its  blue  waters  through  the  trees,  as  they 
pursued  their  line  of  march,  when  suddenly  a  deer  came  bound- 
ing along,  as  though  frightened  or  pursued,  and  dashed  through 
their  ranks  immediately  in  front  of  their  small  body  of  horse. 
Excited  by  the  occurrence,  Don  Ferdinand  galloped  in  pur- 
suit. Passing  up  a  slight  eminence  covered  with  shrubs,  and 
into  the  forest  beyond,  he  had  nearly  overtaken  the  tired  ani- 
mal, when,  suddenly,  an  Indian  stood  between  him  and  his 
chase,  'pie  attitude  of  the  savage  was  not  exactly  hostile, 
although  he  held  his  tomahawk  in  his  hand  in  a  menacing 
manner,  as  he  uttered  the  single  word  "  Wah !" 

6 


122  CAMP  FIRES  OF   THE  RED   MEN. 

But  Don  Ferdinand  was  in  no  mood  to  be  balked.  His 
horse  had  nearly  stopped  at  the  unexpected  apparition  ;  but 
spurring  him  hastily  forward,  the  native  was  thrown  down, 
and  the  Spaniard  drew  up  by  the  side  of  his  prey.  It  was  a 
heavy  buck,  panting  and  evidently  exhausted  from  a  long  run  ; 
but  before  the  chevalier  could  extricate  his  weapon  to  disable 
him,  preparatory  to  dismounting,  he  felt  himself  firmly  seized 
from  behind  ;  and  perceived  that  he  was  surrounded  by  a  score 
or  more  of  the  red  men  of  the  woods,  who  had  come  from  he 
knew  not  where,  and  mastered  him  he  knew  not  how.  Quickly 
dragging  him  from  his  horse,  and  stilling  his  incipient  cries, 
by  a  hatchet  held  over  his  head,  and  a  knife  at  his  throat,  un- 
til they  could  gag  him  and  confine  his  arms — feats  which  they 
performed  with  a  singular-  dexterity — they  placed  him  be- 
tween two  of  their  number,  and  urged  him  rapidly  and  silently 
forward  into  the  deep  recesses  of  the  wood. 

Don  Manuel,  meanwhile,  having  proceeded  a  short  distance, 
ordered  a  halt  to  give  time  for  the  chevalier  to  come  up  ;  but 
that  individual  not  making  his  appearance,  Johnson,  at  the 
head  of  a  file  of  men,  proceeded  to  make  search  in  the  direc- 
tion he  had  taken.  They  soon  discovered  his  horse,  which 
the  savages  had  been  in  too  much  haste  to  secure,  or  had  pur- 
posely disregarded,  lest  his  hoof-marks  should  betray  the 
course  they  had  taken  in  their  retreat ;  and  very  shortly  after 
came  up  to  the  spot  where  the  fray  had  occurred.  The  signs 
which  remained,  the  disturbed  leaves,  the  broken  boughs,  and 
«iome  stains  of  blood  on  the  ground,  which,  however,  had 
jwed  from  the  body  of  the  bruised  native,  were  sufficiently 
Uelligible  to  the  eye  of  Johnson,  who  at  once  concluded  that 
^^e  object  of  his  search  was  a  prisoner,  and  probably  wounded. 
Ordering  his  companions  to  remain  where  they  were,  he  ad- 
duced alone  on  the  trail  of  the  savages,  making  as  he  went  a 
,  eculiar  cry,  intended  to  arrest  their  attention  and  bring  them 
to  a  parley  ;  but  he  soon  convinced  himself  that  they  were  no 


DON  lERDINAXD   FOE  MS  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES.  123 

longer  in  the  vicinity.  He  perceived  that  they  had  arranged 
themselves  in  single  file  for  a  march  ;  and  having  followed  on 
for  a  mile  or  more,  and  remarked  the  haste  with  which  they 
had  taken  their  departure,  he  turned  back  and  made  a  report 
of  the  facts  to  Don  Manuel. 

The  capture  of  Don  Ferdinand  spread  dismay  through  the 
party.  Don  Manuel,  of  course,  would  not  think  of  abandoning 
the  chevalier  and  proceeding  without  him  ;  and  accordingly, 
after  a  short  consultation,  taking  into  view^  this  hostile  demon- 
stration on  the  part  of  the  natives,  it  was  determined  to  halt, 
and  prepare  at  once  for  defense.  A  position  was  therefore 
selected,  on  an  elevated  point  of  land,  formed  by  the  junction 
of  the  branch  whose  course  they  had  been  following  with  the 
main  body  of  the  Delaware,  for  a  sort  of  fortified  encampment. 
The  spot  was  a  strong  one  by  nature,  and  the  Spaniards  im- 
mediately set  themselves  at  work  to  render  it  still  stronger. 
While  some  cleared  the  surface  of  the  ground  of  the  laurel 
and  underbrush  which  covered  it,  others  proceeded  to  dig 
trenches  and  raise  embankments  ;  while  others  still,  cut  stout 
poles  from  the  forest,  pointed  their  ends,  and  busied  them- 
selves in  surrounding  the  whole  with  a  substantial  line  of 
palisades. 

Don  Manuel  was  now  himseli  again ;  in  a  position  which 
recalled  the  military  experience  and  adventures  of  his  early 
life,  and  infused  into  both  mind  and  body  a  vigor  to  which  lat- 
terly he  had  been  a  stranger.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  his  men, 
giving  directions  and  cheering  them  on  ;  and  when  night  came, 
he  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  the  slight  works  he  had  planned 
in  such  a  state  of  forwardness  as,  he  judged,  to  render  his 
camp  defensible  in  case  of  an  attack.  Following  out  the  idea 
of  a  fortress,  which,  indeed,  under  present  circumstances, 
seemed  no  more  than  a  wise  precaution,  he  posted  sentinels 
at  convenient  distances,  and  made  provision  to  have  them  re- 
lieved at  regular  intervals. 


124  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

With  the  prospect  of  security,  and  the  air  of  comfort*  which 
the  camp  assumed  as  the  tents  were  got  in  order,  the  feeling 
of  alarm  subsided  ;  fires  were  lighted  ;  and  the  men,  after  the 
unusual  fatigues  of  the  day,  and  a  fast  which  had  lasted  since 
morning,  busied  themselves  with  the  preparation  of  refresh- 
ments. Of  provisions  there  was  no  lack.  Since  leaving  the 
Hudson,  venison  had  been  plenty  for  the  taking ;  latterly  aft 
abundance  of  vegetables  had  been  supplied  by  the  natives,  and 
the  stores  with  which  they  had  set  out  from  the  city  were  as 
yet  hardly  touched. 

And  now  a  little  event  occurred  by  no  means  devoid  of  ex- 
citement or  danger,  and  of  a  kind  common  at  an  early  period 
to  our  American  forests.  Several  of  the  men  were  turning 
their  spits  around  a  large  fire  which  had  been  kindled  on  a 
surface  of  loose  rock,  when  one  of  them  perceiving  an  object 
in  a  fissure,  which  he  took  to  be  a  squirrel  disturbed  by  the 
heat,  thrust  in  his  hand  and  seized  it.  He  drew  back  his  arm 
with  a  full-grown  rattlesnake  writhing  around  his  wrist.  The 
Spaniard  gave  a  cry  of  terror  and  shook  the  serpent  to  the 
ground.  But  the  king  of  the  reptiles  was  not  disposed  to  avail 
himself  of  his  freedom  to  escape  :  he  threw  himself  into  a 
coil  with  his  head  in  the  center^  elevated  about  a  foot ;  and 
waved  his  rattling  tail  back  and  forth,  as  a  note  of  warning  to 
his  assailants.  His  upper  jaw  was  thrown  back  ready  to 
strike  ;  his  tongue  played  like  an  attenuate  flame  ;  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  a  bewildering  brilliancy  which  almost  realized 
the  creature's  fabled  power  of  fascination,  while  the  variega- 
ted colors  of  his  skin  changed  in  their  hues  like  a  mottled 
cloud  .through  which  heat-lightning  is  flashing.  The  Span- 
iard was  unfortunately  wounded  in  the  adventure,  and  the 
blood  was  trickling  from  his  hand.  While  all  the  rest 
drew  back  in  affright,  Michael  Johnson,  knowing  that  no  time 
was  to  be  lost,  stepped  behind  the  monster,  and  placing  his 
foot  suddenly  upon  him,  coolly  seized  him  by  the  neck  with 


DON  FERDINAND  FORMS  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES .  125 

his  hand,  and  struck  oiF  his  head  with  a  knife.  Then  strip- 
ping out  the  entrails,  he  bound  them  on  the  wounded  limb. 
Whether  this  be  a  sovereign  remedy  for  the  bite  of  the  rattle- 
snake, is  much  to  be  questioned ;  it  is  certain,  however,  that 
in  the  present  instance,  as  well  as  in  some  other  similar  ones 
on  record,  the  man  experienced  no  serious  inconvenience  from 
the  wound.  But  with  the  conquest  over  this  one  enemy,  the 
Spaniards  found  their  labor  had  only  begun.  As  the  heat  pen- 
etrated into  the  rocks,  another  and  another  presented  himself 
at  the  same  fissure,  and  was  dispatched ;  until  the  slain  num- 
bered several  scores,  and  the  men  were  tired  of  officiating  as 
executioners,  even  upon  such  terrible  foes. 

The  latter  part  of  the  evening,  and  the  earlier  portion  of  the 
following  day,  were  devoted  to  a  council  of  war,  called  by 
Don  Manuel,  especially  to  deliberate  on  the  case  of  Don  Fer- 
dinand De  Cassino.  Michael  Johnson,  the  Lady  Viola  and 
her  maid  Ruby,  the  doctor  and  the  priest,  Hugh  O'Brady  the 
father  of  Ruby,  and  Ambrose,  valet  to  Don  Ferdinand,  were 
present ;  and  the  result  of  their  deliberations  was,  that  Johnson 
should  undertake  a  mission  to  the  Indian  villages,  to  treat  in 
person  for  the  liberation  of  the  chevalier.  This  was  the 
proposition  of  the  veteran  himself ;  and  accordingly  but  a  very 
short  time  after  its  acceptance  was  suffered  to  elapse  before, 
with  his  constant  companion,  his  rifle,  on  his  arm,  he  was  ready 
to  take  his  departure.  But  at  the  gate  of  the  encampment  he 
was  unexpectedly  brought  to  a  halt,  by  the  sudden  apparition 
of  Don  Ferdinand  himself,  safe  and  unharmed. 

The  chevalier,  though  he  had  escaped  bodily  injury,  was 
much  flurried,  and  gave  a  very  confused  account  of  what  had 
befallen  him.  He  professed  to  have  been  subjected  to  great 
perils,  and  to  have  effected  his  escape  almost  miraculously,  by 
taking  advantage  of  the  darkness.  The  aborigines  with  whom 
he  had  come  in  contact,  he  represented  as  efr<i|ninate  and 
brutal ;    the  little  village  where  he  had  passed  most  of  the 


126  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEW. 

night  in  confinement,  he  described  as  a  collection  of  miserable 
bark  and  log  huts,  some  three  leagues  away,  with  a  great 
scarcity  of  men,  but  an  abundance  of  women  and  children  ; 
who  had  testified  their  pleasure  at  his  presence  by  every  pos- 
sible species  of  insult,  not  even  excepting  personal  violence  and 
the  indignity  of  blows.  The  chief  of  the  settlement,  he  ac- 
knowledged, had  rescued  him  from  this  degrading  treatment, 
and  had  shown  a  disposition  to  befriend  him. 

But  however  disconnected  and  apocryphal  Don  Ferdinand's 
narrative  of  his  adventures  might  be,  it  is  certain  that  the  joy 
at  his  recovery,  in  the  Spanish  camp,  was  hearty  and  unani- 
mous. For  the  time,  his  irascible  temper  and  petty  tyrannies 
were  forgotten  in  the  general  rejoicing  that  he  had  escaped 
being  burned  at  the  stake,  and  very  possibly  from  furnishing  the 
material  for  a  banquet  to  his  captors ;  and  the  uproarious  de- 
light of  his  immediate  retainers,  most  of  whom  had  been  born 
on  his  estates  in  Spain,  and  regarded  him  as  their  hereditary 
lord  by  divine  appointment,  was  of  a  nature  not  to  be  repressed. 
The  balance  of  the  day  was,  therefore,  by  general  consent, 
devoted  to  festivity. 


Cpptn  dfig^tun 


A  WILD-WOOD  HT7NT.     FASHIONABLE  AND  ARTISTIC  RENCOUNTER  BETWEEN  TWO 
M0NABCH8  OF  THE  FOREST. 


"  Alp  turned  him  from  the  sickening  sight : 
Never  had  shaken  his  nerves  In  fight ;  , 
But  he  better  could  brook  to  behold  the  dying, 
Deep  in  the  tide  of  their  warm  blood  lying, 
Scorched  with  the  death-thirst,  and  writhing  in  vain. 
Than  the  perishing  dead  who  are  past  all  pain." 

THE  liberation  of  Don  Ferdinand,  even  though  effected  by  an 
equivocal  escape,  under  all  the  circumstances  was  received 
as  a  happy  omen  in  the  camp  of  the  Spaniards,  and  operated 
to  dispel  the  gloomy  forebodings  which  had  begun  to  gather 
around  them ;  in  the  territories,  and  surrounded  as  they  now 
were,  by  the  villages  of  the  Six  Nations,  and  cut  off  by  an  ex- 
tensive reach  of  wilderness,  from  all  communication  with  the 
white  settlements.  Nevertheless  they  determined  still  for  some 
days  to  maintain  their  present  position,  not  only  that  they 
might  ascertain  the  settled  temper  of  the  natives,  but  that  they 
might  also  recruit  themselves  and  their  animals,  and  provide 
means  for  the  safe  crossing  of  the  Delaware,  here  a  large  and 
rapid  river. 

Meanwhile,  Johnson  did  not  hesitate  to  beat  up  the  sur- 
rounding woods  in  search  of  a  fresh  supply  of  game ;  but 
finding  the  neighborhood  bare,  the  deer  having  been  scared 
away  by  the  vicinity  of  the  camp,  he  selected  O'Brady  and 
-two  or  three  of  the  Spaniards  to  accompany  him,  and  pushed 
deeper  into  the  forest.  Though  little  apprehensive  of  molest- 
ation from  the  savages  the  habitual  caution  of  the  veteran  in- 


128  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

duced  him  to  proceed  with  great  watchfulness  and  care.  He 
often  listened  intently,  with  his  ear  to  the  ground ;  explored 
every  valley  and  hill  critically  with  his  eye,  before  venturing 
upon  it,  to  detect  some  stray  wreath  of  smoke ;  and  examined 
every  trail  or  footpath,  and  log,  and  stone,  and  patch  of  soft 
mold,  for  fresh  prints  of  the  moccasin.  But  nothing  was 
discovered  to  excite  alarm. 

Coming  at  length  to  the  foot  of  a  range  of  hills,  whose  sides, 
save  where  huge  rocks  projected,  or  steeps  of  bare  red  earth 
met  the  sight,  were  covered  with  wide  fields  of  laurel  and 
other  low  shrubs,  which,  though  in  reality  broken  into  clumps 
and  traversed  by  delightful  avenues  in  every  direction,  present- 
ed, at  a  little  distance,  the  appearance  of  uninterrupted  brakes, 
the  party  separated,  and  bore  singly  toward  a  designated  ^oint 
near  the  summit.  Each  proceeded  in  silence,  winding  his 
way  up  the  eminence,  through  those  natural  paths  we  have 
mentioned,  which  in  many  places  were  found  to  be  w^orn 
smooth  and  hard  by  the  feet  of  the  wild  animals  which  fre- 
quented them. 

Johnson  had  advanced  about  half  way  to  the  top  of  the 
elevation,  when  he  became  aware,  from  the  peculiar  sounds 
and  rustling  of  the  bushes  in  advance,  that  he  was  coming 
upon  a  herd  of  deer,  and  a  moment  after,  the  wide  branching 
antlers  and  chiseled  head  of  a  noble  buck  were  projected  into 
view,  while  the  suspicious  animal  snuffed  the  air,  and  turned 
his  large  and  almost  human  eyes  mquiringly  around.  In  an 
instant  there  was  the  shrill  crack  of  a  rifle,  and  the  majestic 
creature  leaped  his  height  in  the  air,  and  fell  dead  among  his 
terrified  companions.  The  timid  beasts  fled  in  consternation  ; 
but  ignorant  of  the  point  of  danger,  rushed  hither  and  thither 
like  sheep  when  a  wolf  is  suddenly  discovered  to  be  among 
them;  and  did  not 'succeed  in  effecting  their  escape,  until 
two  more  were  brought  down,  and  others  wounded.  These 
last,  mutilated  by  the  unskillful  aim  of  the   Spaniards,  made 


A    WILD- WOOD  HUNT.  129 


wild  plunges  down  the  rocks  and  through  the  bushes,  scatter- 
ing the  fragrance  of  a  thousand  blossoms  on  the  air  as  they 
went,  and  splashing  the  green  leaves  with  streams  of  their 
purple  life.  One  of  those  killed  was  a  doe,  and  as  she  fell, 
gasping  and  quivering,  her  little  spotted  fawn  stopped  by  her 
side,  and  submitted  to  be  captured. 

A  few  moments  sufficed  to  strip  the  skins  from  the  spoil : 
the  entrails  were  withdrawn,  and  the  carcasses,  wrapped  in 
their  natural  covering,  were  appended  to  poles  for  the  con- 
venience of  carriage,  when,  satisfied  with  their  success,  and 
well  laden  with  the  fruits  of  the  chase,  the  hunters  turned  in 
the  direction  of  the  camp. 

"  Here,  down  this  valley  to  the  right,  Hugh,"  said  Johnson, 
as  they  raised  their  burdens  to  their  shoulders  ;  "  we'll  circle 
about  a  little  on  our  way  back,  and,  may  be,  take  a  turkey,  or 
some  other  nice  bit,  for  the  Lady  Viola.  Poor  little  soul!  it's 
few  enough  delicacies  she  can  have  any  way  here  in  the 
woods.  Dry  biscuit,  venison,  and  pounded  corn  are  not  such 
dainties  but  that  a  child  may  get  tired  of  them ;  or  even  a 
man,  who  is  not  used  to  worse  fare.  But  I've  never  seen  the 
time,  boys,  when  a  decent  supper  wasn't  to  be  had  for  the 
asking  around  these  rivers.  Indians  and  deer  alike  love  the 
sweet  water  of  the  Delaware  and  Siskehannah.  By-the-by, 
Hugh,  you  popped  over  that  doe  handsomely,  as  she  stopped 
dum-founded,  and  did'nt  know  where  to  run.  If  she'd  been 
on  the  bound,  boy,  ten  to  one  you'd  have  missed  her.  It  takes 
an  experienced  hand  to  bring  down  a  deer  on  the  bound.  I 
guess  you've  fired  a  gun  before  you  ever  saw  America  ?" 

"  It's  many  a  year,  Mike,"  replied  O'Brady,  "  smce  I  left 
the  ould  counthree.  There,  sure,  I  fired  many  a  gun,  but 
'twas  in  the  wars,  and  long  afore  I  went  to  sarve  with  Don 
Manuel." 

"Well,  Hugh,"  said  Johnson,  "the  next  deer  you  aim  at  so 
surely,  don't  let  it  be  a  doe,  my  boy.     The  meat  is  not  good 


130  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

in  the  summer,  and  besides,  Hugh,  look  at  this  little  orphan ! 
A  mother  should  be  spared." 

The  old  man  was  carrying  the  trembling  fawn  under  his 
arm  at  the  time,  with  its  legs  slightly  confined  with  his  red 
bandana  handkerchief.  Turning  to  the  -Spaniards  he  con- 
tinued : 

"  And  you,  lads,  mustn't  fire  at  the  deer  at  all  any  more  till 
you  can  larn  to  take  better  aim.  God  didn't  place  'em  in  the 
woods  here  to  be  mangled  and  left  to  die.  He  put  'em  here  to 
be  happy  among  his  hills,  and  his  flowers,  and  his  streams,  and 
to  sarve  man  for  food.  But  if  we  don't  know  enough  to  send 
a  clean  ball  through  a  vital  part,  we've  no  business  with  them. 
To  aim  at  the  whole  body  of  a  deer  is  an  abuse  of  our  faculties 
and  an  insult  to  Providence." 

"  Should  I  not  be  a  good  shot  ?"  said  Hugh,  recurring  with 
evident  satisfaction  to  the  praise  which  Johnson  had  bestowed 
on  his  marksmanship.  "  Ten  years  I  sarved  good  King 
George  in  his  battles.  I  was  but  a  young  'un  when  I  first 
shouthered  me  musket.  Dear,  dear !  to  think  of  the  grafe  of 
me  poor  wife  when  I  bade  her  good-bye.  I  seen  her  no  more, 
for  she's  died;  and  nather  have  I  looked  on  ould  Ireland 
ag'in,  at  all,  at  all.  Me  nate  girl.  Ruby,  when  she  grew  up, 
came  all  the  way  over  the  sea  for  the  love  of  her  ould  fadher, 
so  she  did,  or  I  'ud  now  be  all  alone  on  the  arth." 

"  Well,  Hugh,"  said  Johnson,  "  the  world  is  full  of  sufTerin' 
and  sorrow,  and  goes  on  jest  in  the  way  you've  been  telling, 
so  far  as  I  know.  It  seems  hard  sometimes,  but  I  s'pose  it^s 
all  for  the  best.  I've  seen  trouble  in  my  day,  too  ;  but  God's 
will  be  done,'  *Tis  not  for  me  to  complain,  or  to  forget  his 
marcies." 

The  old  man  drew  his  bony  hand  across  the  end  of  his 
nose,  as  though  to  wipe  away  the  recollection  of  other  days, 
and  swelling  out  his  chest  with  a  deep-drawn  breath,  quick- 
ened his  step,  as  he  commenced  humming  an  old  song  in  a 


A  WILD-WOOD  BUNT.  \^\ 


low  tone,  between  singing  and  whistling,  as  was  his  custom 
when  occupied  in  thought.  The  little  party  proceeded  some 
distance  in  silence,  which  was  at  length  interrupted  by  a  sud- 
den start,  and  an  exclamation  of  the  single  word  "  Whew !" 
from  the  veteran.  With  a  gesture  he  fastened  his  com- 
panions in  their  tracks,  and  slightly  opening  his  mouth,  placed 
his  hand  to  his  ear,  in  an  attitude  of  deep  attention.  In  a 
moment  the  low,  deep  growl  which  had  caught  his  ear  became 
audible  to  the  others. 

"  It  is  a  bear,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  hardly  above  a  whisper. 
"  But  I  never  heard  one  make  that  doleful  noise  at  the  sight 
or  the  smell  of  a  man.  No,  no ;  she's  afraid  of  something  be- 
sides us,  boys — that's  sartain.     When  I — r-" 

A  moaning  shriek  from  an  opposite  hill  cut  short  the  sen- 
tence. It  was  a  plaintive  sound,  not  heavy,  but  long  and 
shrill,  like  the  cry  of  human  distress.  The  Spaniards  shrunk 
back  in  terror.  Johnson  coolly  examined  his  priming,  and 
directing  the  men  4o  deposit  their  burdens  on  the  ground, 
cautiously  led  the  way  to  a  point  that  overlooked  the  uneven 
surface  of  a  narrow,  but  long  and  deep  valley,  thinly  covered 
with  trees.  Hardly  had  they  become  stationary,  screening 
themselves  from  observation  by  a  body  of  thick  underbrush, 
when  the  quick  eye  of  the  old  hunter  caught  a  view  of  the 
animal  he  had  so  unhesitatingly  pronounced  a  bear.  It  was 
indeed  a  she-bear,  of  the  largest  dimensions,  making  her  way 
with  much  haste  up  the  valley,  and  followed  by  a  quarter- 
grown  cub  with  all  the  speed  that  it  could  compass.  As  she 
advanced  she  frequently  outran  her  offspring,  when,  slacken- 
ing her  pace  for  the  little  animal  to  come  up,  she  cast  wistfu 
looks  behind,  and  sent  forth  a  low,  harsh  growl,  as  it  seemed, 
half  in  fear  and  half  in  defiance.  But  now  a  startling  cry, 
louder  and  fiercer  and  nearer  than  the  other,  rang  through  the 
valley.  It  had  its  effect  on  the  bear.  She  stopped  suddenly, 
•js  though  convinced  that  there  was  no  longer  safety  in  flight, 


132  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TSE  RED  MEN. 

and  stood  for  a  moment  rubbing  her  nose  affectionately  against 
her  cub.  But  another  of  those  fearful  shrieks  started  her 
again  ;  she  proceeded  a  few  paces  and  raised  herself  against 
the  trunk  of  a  tree,  as  though  to  ascend,  when,  looking  back 
at  her  young  one,  she  tore  the  bark  with  her  claws,  and  again 
started  on.  Her  course,  meanwhile,  had  been  bringing  her 
much  nearer  the  spot  where  the  hunters  lay  concealed,  when 
Hugh  O'Brady,  eager  since  the  compliment  to  his  gunnery  to 
exhibit  his  skill,  brought  his  musket  to  his  shoulder. 

"  Down  with  your  popgun !"  said  Johnson,  in  a  low  tone. 
"  Would  you  throw  away  your  charge  at  this  distance,  with- 
out knowin'  the  strength  of  the  inemy  ?  Wait  till  the  painter 
comes,  and  see  that  your  courage  keeps  up  then  as  high  as  'tis 
now." 

The  bear  at  length  came  to  a  halt  on  a  small  level  plat, 
which,  for  a  few  feet  around,  was  clear  of  trees  and  shrubs, 
and  covered  mainly  with  a  red  moss,  and  commenced  throw- 
ing up  the  soft  mold  with  her  pavm;.  Industriously  she 
labored,  and  in  a  few  moments  succeeded  in  excavating  a 
trench  sufficiently  capacious  for  her  purpose  ;  when,  rolling 
her  back  into  the  cavity,  which  covered  two  thirds  of  her 
body,  she  awaited  the  approach  of  her  antagonist. 

"  Hooraw  !"  exclaimed  Johnson,  with  great  animation  ;  "  I've 
heard  tell  of  that  before,  but  never  see  it  myself.  It's  a  rare 
thing  that  a  bear  knows  enough  to  cover  her  shoulders  from 
the  spring  of  a  painter." 

The  panther  now  appeared,  bounding  down  the  hillside 
and  along  the  valley  like  a  cat,  occasionally  smelling  the 
earth  and  lashing  up  his  wrath  with  his  tail,  and  tearing  the 
saplings  and  the  trees  in  the  exhibition  of  his  wild  and  furious 
antics.  He  approached  with  caution,  and  it  was  some  little 
time  before  he  discovered  the  position  of  his  enemy.  When 
he  had  sufficiently  reconnoitered,  however,  he  bounded  with 
inconceivable  agility  toward  her  ;  but  when  it  seemed  that  the 


A  WILD-WOOD  HUNT.  133 

next  spring  would  have  brought  him  on  his  foe,  he  suddenly 
changed  his  purpose,  wheeled,  and  threw  himself  upon  the 
body  of  a  branching  oak  near  at  hand,  which  he  ascended 
with  the  ease  and  dexterity  of  a  cat,  and  planted  himself  upon 
a  large  limb  which  extended  in  the  direction  of  his  fortified 
antagonist. 

The  bear,  meanwhile,  kept  her  position  with  admirable 
composure.  She  lay  in  her  trough,  with  her  legs  resting  on 
her  body,  as  perfectly  motionless  as  though  she  had  been  dead. 
The  panther  eyed  her  keenly  for  a  moment,  whipping  his  sides 
slowly  with  his  long  tail,  when,  settling  closely  to  the  limb 
on  which  he  sat,  with  a  leap  he  appeared  midway  in  the  air 
coming  down  upon  her.  Then  the  body  of  the  bear  seemed 
to  shrink  into  half  its  size,  the  surface  of  her  paws  expanded, 
showing  the  rows  of  fearful  weapons  with  which  nature  had 
armed  her,  while  her  legs  were  contracted  to  the  utmost,  to 
give  space  for  a  more  effective  stroke.  She  received  her 
terrible  opponent  on  her  breast,  and  sent  him  back  many  feet 
into  the  air,  with  a  force  little  inferior  to  that  of  his  descent. 
He  struck  on  the  ground  like  a  log,  and  for  a  time  seemed 
stunned ;  but  soon  dragging  himself  to  his  feet,  he  gave  a 
startling  yell,  and  with  little  abatement  of  his  former  agility 
regained  his  position  in  the  tree.  There  he  remained  for 
some  minutes  to  recover  himself,  or,  perhaps,  in  doubt  as  to 
the  policy  of  making  another  assault  on  an  enemy  whose 
artificial  system  of  defense  had  placed  him  on  a  very  unequal 
footing.  But  shortly,  again,  he  sprung  forward,  like  an  em- 
bodied thunderbolt,  his  claws  and  jaws  extended,  and  his  eyes 
flashing  with  rage.  The  bear  received  him  as  before,  but 
not,  in  some  respects,  with  equal  success.  The  panther  had 
descended  nearly  head  foremost,  and  before  her  feet  could 
bear  against^  his  body,  he  had  grappled  her  throat  with  his 
teeth.  Still  the  struggle  was  but  momentary.  The  great 
strength  of  the  bear,  together  with  her  advantageous  position, 


134  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

enabled  her  to  force  her  antagonist  from  his  hold ;  but  so 
tenacious  was  his  grasp,  that  her  whole  power  only  sufficed 
to  throw  him  from  her.  He  sunk  on  the  ground  evidently  ex- 
hausted, if  not  disabled,  and  lay  for  some  minutes  without  at- 
tempting to  rise,  while  dark-red  spots  were  plainly  discern- 
ible, as  they  rapidly  enlarged  on  his  abdomen  and  breast. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  conflict,  Johnson  and  his  party 
had  emerged  from  the  bushes  which  previously  concealed 
them,  and  now  stood  unnoticed  within  twenty  yards  of  the 
combatants. 

"  Hugh,"  said  Johnson,  "  less  end  the  creators,  and  put  them 
out  of  their  misery.  Ill  take  the  painter,  and  do  you  let  drive 
into  the  bear's  heart.     Mind  and  aim  low." 

But  at  that  instant  the  fading  but  still  terrible  eye  of  the 
panther  caught  the  bear's  whelp,  which  till  then  had  stood  dis- 
regarded a  few  paces  behind  its  dam.  Partially  raising  him- 
self, the  dying  but  unconquerable  animal  collected  his  waning 
strength,  and  with  a  bound  cleared  the  mother  and  grappled 
with  her  cub.  The  young  one  made  but  a  feeble  resistance  ; 
it  sent  forth  a  cry  for  help,  and  that  cry  was  its  last ;  while 
exulting  in  his  revenge,  the  panther  crushed  its  bones  between 
his  jaws,  and  raising  it  in  his  claws  shook  it  aloft ;  and  as  its 
mother  came  up  to  the  rescue,  threw  it  on  the  ground  at  her 
feet,  a  lifeless  and  lacerated  clod.  But  the  king  of  the  Ameri- 
can woods  was  also  at  his  last  gasp.  The  party  who  stood 
regarding  the  scene,  with  mingled  feelings  of  interest  and  hor- 
ror, had  noticed  in  his  final  effort  for  mastery  or  revenge,  that 
the  blood  was  streaming  from  his  breast,  and  his  entrails  drag- 
ging on  the  ground ;  and  before  the  enraged  mother  could 
reach  him,  he  fell  dead  by  the  side  of  her  whelp. 

Johnson  and  O'Brady  still  stood  with  their  pieces  elevated, 
forgetting  in  the  suddenness  and  excitement  of  the  catastrophe 
to  discharge  them  ;  but  now  the  former  with  much  energy  ex- 
claimed :  ♦ 


A    WILD-WOOD  HUNT.  I35 


"  Let  have  into  the  varmint,  Hugh  !  We'll  finish  the  busi- 
ness ourselves.  Why,  it  beats  all  nater  and  the  Indians  to 
boot !" 

Aroused  by  the  noise  from  the  contemplation  of  the  slain, 
the  old  bear  turned,  and  receiving  both  balls  in  her  forehead, 
sunk  lifeless  between  her  antagonist  and  her  offspring. 
•  The  party  advanced  to  the  scene  of  combat ;  and  Johnson, 
drawing  his  hunting-knife  across  the  throat  of  the  bear, 
stretched  out  the  dead  animals  on  the  moss  to  satisfy  the  cu- 
riosity of  his  companions.  He  exhibited  their  enormous  tusks 
and  claws  on  his  ^nger ;  and  feeling  through  the  shaggy  coat 
of  the  bear,  he  declared  her  to  be  good  meat,  and  her  skin  fit 
for  the  couch  of  an  emperor.  But  it  now  became  evident  that 
the  Spaniards,  who  were  standing  by,  were  laboring  under 
some  singular  hallucination.  They  cast  furtive  glances  to  the 
right  and  the  left,  peering  through  the  trees  and  upon  the  hills 
around,  with  every  mark  of  aff"right  still  stamped  on  their 
swarthy  faces. 

"What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Johnson. 

"  Where  are  the  Indians  ?"  said  they. 

"  Indians  !"  returned  he.  "  There's  fio  Indians  about  that 
I  know  of.  The  noise  you  heard  on  the  hills  was  the  nateral 
cry  of  the  pairiter.  I've  heard  them,  from  the  old  Connecticut 
to  the  Masfeippi,  and,  for  the  matter  of  that,  to  the  Stunny 
Mountains  ;  and  from  the  Big  Lakes  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  ; 
and  they  always  make  a  plaint  that's  terrible  to  man,  some- 
thing like  the  crying  of  a  child  ;  and  again,  sharper  and  loud- 
er, like  the  shrieks  of  a  woman  under  the  tomahawk.  Were 
you  scart,  boys  ?  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  In  the  year  '35, 
coming  from  Fort  Swago,  Hendrick  the  Mohawk  was  with 
me,  and  we  camped  for  the  night  at  the  outlet  of  the  Neida 
Lake.  But  the  venomous  bea^s  prowled  so  close  around  us 
with  their  hungry  yells,  that  we  didn't  sleep  a  wink  all  night. 
Wf^  had  enough  to  do  to  keep  our  circle  of  fires  burning,,  to 


136  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TBE  BED  MEN. 


frighten  them  off.  Hendrick  peppered  one,  though.  We 
were  breaking  some  dead  limbs,  for  the  fires,  when  we  saw  a 
pair  of  balls' glistening  in  the  dark,  like  a  couple  of  candles,* 
or  rather  like  two  glowing  coals,  a  little  ways  off;  and  I  told 
Hendrick  I  would  just  step  back  and  get  my  gun.  But  he 
grunted  no,  in  Mohawk,  and  let  fly  his  tomahawk  between  the 
shining  lights.  Indians  have  the  gift  of  the  tomahawk,  that's 
sartain.  Well,  we  knew  the  painter  was  ended,  for  we  heard 
the  cracking  of  the  dry  twigs,  the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  and 
his  choked  yells,  as  he  bounded  about  in  his  death-struggle. 
'But  we  didn't  go  to  him  till  morning;  and  then  we  found 
the  hatchet  settled  clean  and  smooth  into  the  creater's  head, 
so  that  you  could'nt  see  nothing  on't  but  the  handle,  and  a  bit 
as  big  as  my  thumb-nail  of  the  pipe-bowl." 

It  now  became  necessary  to  provide  means  for  the  trans- 
portation of  the  additional  spoils  to  the  camp,  especially  the 
heavy  bear,  whose  meat  was  esteemed  by  the  natives,  and 
those  accustomed  to  its  use,  as  a  great  luxury ;  and  while 
O'Brady  and  the  others  went  forward  with  such  portion  as 
they  could  carry,  Johnson  tarried  behind  to  await  the  arrival 
of  further  aid.  Left  to  himself  the  veteran  sat  down  on  a  log, 
and  remained  for  some  time  wrapped  in  his  own  reflections. 
At  length,  rising,  he  walked  leisurely  back  and  forth  in  the 
damp  valley,  whose  springs,  shut  out  from  the  sun,  trickled 
ever  over  moist  earth,  and  whose  atmosphere,  though  cool 
and  fragrant,  was  ever  hung  with  shadows,  like  the  gossamer 
haze  of  twilight.  His  ancient  rifle,  which  looked  as  weather- 
beaten  as  himself,  and  which  he  had  managed  to  retain,  often 
at  a  great  sacrifice  of  other  comforts,  through  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  long  years,  and  wounds,  and  captivity,  lay  on  his  arm  ; 
and  occasionally  he  regarded  it  with  a  look,  such  as^one  be- 
stows on  an  old  and  cherish*ed  friend.  Passing  up  the  oppo- 
site hill,  he  found  a  more  open  prospect.  The  trees  were 
sparse  on  the  eminence,  and  he  was  greeted  with  the  full  light 


A   WILD-WOOD  BTJNT.  137 

and  warmth  of  the  sun.  The  Delaware  lay  off  at  his  right, 
with  its  transparent  waters,  and  the  green  fringes  of  its  curved 
and  winding  banks ;  and  on  his  left,  though  at  a  greater  distance, 
the  tributary  which  came  in  from  the  east.  At  their  junction 
was  the  encampment,  and  its  smoke  was  plainly  to  be  seen. 

The  old  man  surveyed  the  beautiful  prospect  of  river,  vale, 
and  hill,  and  his  eye  brightened.  "  Here  are  God's  works," 
said  he,  "  and  they  are  peace.  How  different  are  man's !" 
But  gradually  contracting  his  vision  to  nearer  objects,  the  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance  suddenly  changed. 

A  dead  Indian  was  lying  almost  at  his  very  feet,  partially 
concealed  by  a  clump  of  laurel  which  grew  by  the  spot.  The 
flies  were  buzzing  about  in  swarms  ;  and  Johnson,  waving  his 
hand  over  the  body,  drove  them  away ;  and  pushing  back  the 
bushes,  he  gazed  earnestly  on  the  relic  of  humanity.  The 
body  was  that  of  a  robust  native  in  the  prime  of  life.  He  was 
reclining  partly  on  his  side,  and  a  large  stain  of  blood  was  on 
his  back ;  and  the  dark  tide  had  run  down  on  the  ground,  and 
formed  a  pool  which  was  now  dry,  leaving  a  deep  purple  color 
on  the  leaves,  and  a  profusion  of  thin  red  scales,  as  the  crim- 
son fluid  had  evaporated  in  the  sun. 

Johnson  had  witnessed  death  in  a  variety  of  forms :  on  the 
domestic  couch,  surrounded  by  weeping  friends ;  on  the  bat- 
tle-field, amidst  fire,  and  shrieks,  and  blood  ;  but  never  when 
it  found  its  way  so  readily  to  his  heart.  There  men  died  of 
course  ;  but  here  lay  the  poor  Indian,  in  the  deep  silence  of 
the  forest,  dead,  but  no  one  to  tell  his  story.  No  friends  had 
wailed  over  him,  and  his  death-song  remained  unsung. 

Why  this  victim  lay  thus  exposed,  and  how  he  came  to  his 
untimely  end,  the  old  hunter  was  far  from  imagining.  But  he 
was  now  aroused  by  the  shouts  of  those  who  had  arrived  from 
the  camp  ;  and  calling  them  to  him,  he  pointed  out  the  marvel. 

"  If  I  were  dead  on  any  of  their  hills,"  said  he, "  they  would 
give  me  a  decent  burial." 


138  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

But  Johnson  was  well  acquainted  with  the  feelings  and 
habits  of  the  Indians,  and  especially  with  their  great  anxiety  al- 
ways to  reclaim  their  dead.  Getting,  therefore,  his  companions 
to  help  him,  he  covered  the  body  with  green  boughs  and  poles^ 
to  preserve  it  from  the  beasts  of  the  forest ;  and  peeling  thfr 
bark  from  a  shaft  of  pine,  he  cut  some  rude  characters  on  it 
with  his  knife,  thrust  it  upright  in  the  ground,  and  hung  on  it 
one  of  the  moccasins  of  the  dead  Indian. 


ajtn  "^xuttttn. 


A  OAMP-FIRE  TABN,  EMBRACING    SOME    INCIDENTS    NECESSARY  TO    BE  KtfOWS 
IN  THE    EARLY  LIFE  OP    JOHNSON. 


'  The  dead  leaves  strew  the  forest  walk, 
And  withered  are  the  pale  wild  flowers.' 


T?VENING  was  at  hand  as  Johnson  returned  from  the  hunt ; 
J-^  and  very  shortly  thereafter  he  was  summoned  to  the  quar- 
ters of  Don  Manuel.  He  found  Don  Ferdinand  there  in  a 
condition  of  extreme  restlessness.  The  chevalier  was  urging 
the  propriety  of  throwing  out  an  advance  corps  on  to  the 
waters  of  the  Susquehanna,  a  distance  of  some  six  or  eight 
leagues,  to  select  a  spot  for  another  camp,  and  place  it  in  a 
condition  for  the  reception  of  the  party.  He  proposed  that 
the  expedition  should  depart  in  the  night,  and  that  Johnson 
and  himself  should  head  it.  Don  Manuel  evidently  regarded 
the  proposition  with  favor,  and  Johnson  felt  no  disposition  to 
oppose  it.  The  old  man,  however,  found  a  cloud  resting  on 
his  mind  through  which  he  could  not  penetrate.  Still  the 
measure  proposed  seemed  no  more  than  a  wise  precaution. 
Their  present  position  was  a  strong  one,  and  he  could  not 
doubt,  even  in  case  of  an  attack,  and  with  a  force  somewhat 
diminished,  that  Don  Manuel  would  be  abundantly  able  to 
defend  it.  A  forced  march  of  a  day  over  the  mountain  range 
that  divided  the  two  rivers,  would  bring  them  at  any  time  to 
the  contemplated  post  in  advance.  There,  in  case  of  a  hos- 
tile disposition  on  the  part  of  the  natives,  some  preparations 
for  their  security,  especially  for  the  safety  of  the  Lady  Viola, 
seemed  very  necessary.     The  affair  was  accordingly  consid- 


140  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

ered  settled,  and  very  shortly  thereafter  Don  Ferdinand 
retired,  leaving  Johnson  alone  with  Don  Manuel  and  his 
daughter. 

"  And  novp-,  good  Michael,"  said  the  Lady  Viola,  "  if  you 
^re  not  too  much  fatigued  by  the  labors  of  the  chase,  will  you 
oblige  me  with  another  of  those  old  tales  with  which  you 
used  to  amuse  me  in  Mexico,  and  again  on  the  ocean,  when 
we*  lay  becalmed  ?  They  have  a  charm  for  me  which  I 
can  not  express,  and  I  must  always  feel  grateful  for  the  pleas- 
ure you  have  thus  afforded  me." 

The  old  man  was  silent  for  some  moments.  At  length  he 
said  : 

"  I'm  sad  to  night,  daughter,  and  that,  I  fear,  is  not  a  favor- 
able mood  for  story-telling ;  and  still,  I  can't  well  refuse  any 
thing  to  your  innocent  face.  But,  of  late,  I've  thought  much 
of  old  times,  when  I  was  young  like  you ;  and  of  the  hopes 
I  had  then,  which  are  gone.  I'm  now  old  and  gray  ,  and  it 
*seems  like  a  dream  when  my  rosy  boy  hung  upon  my  knee, 
and  my  wife  stepped  busily  around  our. home." 

"  Why,  Johnson,"  said  Don  Manuel,  "  I  did  not  suppose 
you  ever  had  a  family.     I  never  heard  you  mention  it  before." 

"  It's  rarely  I  speak  of  it,  sir,"  replied  Johnson,  as  he  rested 
-his  forehead  on  his  hand. 

Although  a  tinge  of  sadness  was  frequently  discernible  in 
the  countenance  and  expressions  of  Michael  Johnson,  as 
though  memory  rested  uneasily  on  some  of  the  scenes  it 
recalled,  yet  such  shadows  would  remain  but  for  a  moment, 
and  were  forgotten  in  his  uniform  cheerfulness  of  manner. 
The  father  and  daughter  noiv  felt,  however,  as  they  regarded 
his  time-worn  form,  and  the  emotions  which  he  could  not 
altogether  repress,  that  he  had  griefs  which  they  dreamed  not 
of;  and  that  his  present  feelings  were  of  too  sacred  a  nature 
for  the  intrusion  of  either  inquiry  or  consolation ;  and  the 
Lady  Viola,  taking  her  guitar,  struck  into  a  plaintive  air,  and 


TEE  OLD  mrU-TER'S  STORY.  141 

kindly  sought  to  soothe  him  by  the  unobtrusive  sympathies  of 
music.  After  a  silence  of  some  minutes,  Don  Manuel  re- 
marked : 

'  "I  think  you  have  told  me  that  you  are  a  native  of  one  of 
the  northern  colonies  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  vras  born  in  Massachusetts  ; 
and  there  I  spent  the  fore  part  of  my  life,  both  youth  and 
manhood,  saving  a  trip  to  the  West  now  and  then,  to  trade 
with  the  Indians.  There  it  was  that  I  married  ;  and  there  I 
should  have  lived  to  this  day,  it's  altogether  probable,  if  I 
hadn't  lost  my  wife,  which  broke  up  my  family  and  spoilt  my 
home.  But  I  can't  say  any  thing  about  Lucy  to-night.  If  I 
talk,  I  must  talk  of  my  little  boy  ;  for  I've  hardly  thought  of 
any  thing  else  since  we  landed  in  America.  It's  marvelous, 
after  I've  given  him  up  for  dead,  for  so  many  long  years,  that 
of  late,  sleeping  or  waking,  on  the  hills,  or  by  the  valley 
streams,  he  stands  afore  me,  jest  as  I  last  see  him  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ginessee.  It's  here,"  continued  he,  placing  his 
hand  on  his  heart ;  "  but  it  seems,  at  times,  as  though  he's 
actually  before  my  eyes,  with  his  deer-skin  clothes  and  beady 
moccasins,  and  the  wampum  belt  that  Hendrick  the  Mohawk, 
gave  him.  Oh,  he  had  a  ruddy  face,  and  his  laughing  blue 
eyes  were  like  Lucy's." 

Johnson  paused  in  his  retrospection  ;  but  catching  the  anx- 
ious and  sympathizing  looks  of  the  Lady  Viola,  he  proceeded  : 

"  It  is  childish,  perhaps,  to  plague  you  with  the  fancies  of 
an  old  head  like  mine,  daughter  ;  but  you  asked  me  for  a  story, 
and  if  you  wont  let  the  simple  narrative  grieve  you — for  your 
young  heart  ought  not  to  know  any  thing  of  sorrow  yet,  for 
this  many  a  day — I'll  tell  you  how  I  lost  my  little  boy. 

"  Well,  Lucy  was  dead  ;  no  matter  how,  to-night ;  and  little 
Paul  was  three  years  old,  cr  thereabouts.  They  always 
called  his  father  a  proper  son  of  Ishmael,  so  far  as  roving  was 
consarned ;  and  the  few  years  that  Lucy  lived,  after  we  were 


142  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

married,  was  the  only  time  of  my  life  when  the  neighbors 
would  allow  that  I  was  tolerable  steady.  Somehow  or  other, 
the  great  woods,  jest  as  God  made  'em,  were  always  pleasant 
to  me  ;  and  I  can't  deny  that  from  my  youth  up  I  had  an  un- 
common love  for  hunting  and  trading  with  the  Indians. 

"  Well,  when  Lucy  was  not  there,  somehow,  every  thing 
changed,  and  in  the  whole  town  I  couldn't  think  of  any  thing 
1  cared  about,  so  I  took  to  my  old  ways  ag'in,  and  started 
West.  I  couldn't  think  of  separatin'  from  Paul,  and  so  I  took 
him  with  me.  At  Albany,  as  I  had  done  years  before,  I  loaded 
a  canoe  with  powder,  lead,  and  blankets,  and  so  on,  for  a  trip 
to  the  Mohawk  villages,  and  proceeded  up  the  river.  Little 
Paul  was  all  the  real  comfort  I  had.  He  would  help  his 
daddy  paddle  the  canoe,  and  try  to  imitate  all  my  actions  ;  and 
we  hadn't  been  long  among  the  Mohawks  before  he'd  send  an 
arrow  with  the  best  lad  of  his  size  in  the  tribe. 

"  The  Indians  received  me  in  a  friendly  manner,  after  their 
way,  and  helped  me  to  refit  my  old  wigwam.  I  gave  them  my 
notions  for  their  deer-skins  and  furs,  which  I  sent  down  to 
Albany,  or  sold  to  the  traders  ;  and  finding  their  way  of  life 
agreeable,  I  used  to  go  with  them  in  their  hunting  and  trap- 
ping expeditions,  and  finally  became  as  one  of  them.  They 
adopted  me  into  their  tribe  ;  and  I  must  say  for  ihem  that 
they're  a  pleasant  people  to  their  friends,  though  very  terrible, 
indeed,  in  their  revenge  on  their  enemies.  Months  passed 
oflf  in  this  way,  and  a  whole  year  ;  and  by  that  time,  I  guess, 
I'd  got  to  be  a  pretty  good  Indian  myself;  and  Paul,  with  his 
bow  and  arrows  and  blanket,  if  you  didn't  see  his  hair  or  his 
eyes,  couldn't  hardly  be  told  from  Wisset,  Hendrick's  son,  who 
was  about  the  same  age. 

There  was  one  Indian  in  the  tribe  who  always  acted  sulky 
when  I  was  about,  as  though  he  bore  me  a  grudge.  I  never 
knew  what  for,  only  I  was  white  ;  and  John  the  Wild  Cat 
hated  all  whites.     He  was  a  warrior  and  a  chief,  and  bold  as 


THE  OLD  nXTNTER'a  STORY.  143 

lie  was  treacherous  and  cruel.  We  were  jest  about  starting 
for  the  Siskehannah  on  a  long  hunt,  and  to  trap  for  the  musk- 
rat  and  otter  ;  and  Hendrick  took  me  one  side,  and  cautioned 
me  against  John. 

"  '  Son,'  said  he,  *  the  Wild  Cat  has  claws,  and  he  watches 
the  course  of  the  White  Eagle  (for  this,  you  must  know,  was 
the  name  the  Mohawks  had  given  me).  Many  summers  ago 
his  squaw  and  his  little  ones  were  scalped  by  the  Mohigans, 
and  white  men  were  with  them.  Let  the  eye  of  the  White 
Eagle  be  open,  and  his  wing  in  the  clouds,  that  no  beast  may 
spring  upon  him.' 

"  He  said  no  more  ;  but  knowin'  that  an  Indian's  warnin' 
wasn't  for  nothing,  I  detarmined  to  keep  a  close  eye  on  John. 
He  was  one  of  our  party  ;  and  all  went  on  smooth  enough  for 
some  time,  and  I  saw  nothing  to  excite  suspicion  until  he 
moved  his  traps  from  a  pond  to  a  stream  where  mine  were 
set.  I  didn't  like  his  actions,  but  said  nothing  till  my  traps 
began  to  be  stole  ;  and  he  had  blocked  up  the  paths  both  above 
and  below  me  with  his'n,  totally  surrounding  me,  so  that  my 
chance  for  catching  any  thing  was  jest  good  for  nothing  at  all. 
Then  I  told  him  to  clear  away,  on  one  side  or  the  other,  and 
give  me  fair  play ;  and  he  replied  by  asking  me  if  I  had  ever 
felt  the  claws  of  a  wild  cat. 

"  I  answered  him. in  his  own  style  ;  that  the  talons  of  the 
eagle  are  strong,  and  he  flies  high  above  the  mountain  where 
the  wild  cat  yells,  and  laughs  at  him. 

"  I  was  a  little  too  fast,  I  own,  in  ray  reply.  I  ought  to  have 
governed  my  temper  better ;  but  John  had  tormented  me  day 
after  day,  until  I  was  clean  beyond  all  bounds  of  patience. 
He  grappled  his  knife  in  his  hand  at  my  answer,  but  seeing  I 
was  ready  for  him,  he  burst  into  a  laugh, 

"  '  Yes,  the  eagle  is  strong,'  said  he  ;  '  but  is  the  Yen- 
gee  an  eagle  ?  If  he  has  wings,  they  are  like  the  squir- 
rel's, that  carry  him   down  instead  of  up.      Is  he   strong  ? 


144  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

So  is  the  Yengee  hog  that  the  wild  cat  eats.  I  spit  upon 
you.' 

"  Thus  saying,  he  turned  sullenly  away  as  though  to  go  off; 
and  1  thought  of  applying  to  the  head  chief  of  the  hunt  for  jus- 
tice agi'n  him  ;  but  there  is  little  of  law  among  the  Indians  but 
the  gun  and  the  tomahawk,  as  I  soon  found  ;  for  while  I  was 
stooped  over  fixin'  my  traps,  a  ball  whistled  by  my  head,  and 
glanced  off  upon  the  water.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened 
that  John  missed  me,  for  when  I  looked  up,  he  was  running 
not  more  than  six  or  eight  rods  off,  and  he  was  reckoned  a 
good  shot.  I  raised  my  rifle,  and  hollered  after  him  that  I 
was  about  to  shoot  the  Wild  Cat  in  the  back. 

"  At  this  he  stopped  short ;  and  turning  round,  folded  his 
arms  on  his  breast,  and  bid  me  fire. 

"  I  have  had  the  beaver,  afore  now,  look  me  in  the  face  as 
I  was  aiming  my  gun  at  it,  and  raaly  it  seemed  as  though  the 
dumb  beast  knowed  what  I  was  at,  and  I  have  waited  till  it 
turned  its  head  away  before  I  shot ;  and  now,  when  a  feller- 
creater  stood  in  the  same  place,  I  couldn't  find  it  in  my  heart 
at  all  to  do  it.     'Twasn't  possible. 

" '  John,'  said  I,  '  what  hurt  have  1  done  you,  that  you  use 
me  as  you  would  a  mink  when  you  wanted  its  skin  ?' 

"  He  dropped  his  blanket  from  his  shoulders,  and  pointed 
with  his  finger  to  his  naked  breast,  as  much  as  to  say,  Take 
your  reckoning  there. 

"  '  I  will  not  kill  you,  John,'  said  I,  '  take  your  life  ;  but  let 
the  Wild  Cat,  whose  ears  are  cut  off,  and  whose  tail  drags  on 
the  ground,  go  to  some  distant  hill,  where  his  tribe  will  not 
be  frightened  at  his  squalls,  nor  see  his  shame.' 

"  He  did  not  move ;  and  after  a  minute  answered,*  John  will  die.* 

"  '  I  will  not  have  your  life,'  said  I.  '  Are  you  not  now  my 
captive,  my  slave,  and  do  you  refuse  to  obey  me  ?  Let  the 
Wild  Cat  go  before  he  becomes  a  squaw,  and  earn  him  a  new 
name  among  the  Hurons  of  the  Lakes.' 


THE  OLD   HUKTEIPS  STOUT.  145 

"  He  turned  slowly  and  walked  off;  for  by  Indian  custom, 
as  he'd  attempted  my  life,  and  I'd  spared  his,  when  it  was  in 
my  power,  he  belonged  to  me,  and  I  could  dispose  of  him  as 
I  liked. 

'*  When  he  was  gone,  as  it  still  wanted  several  hours  of 
sundown,  I  put  back  on  to  the  hills  in  search  of  game,  cheer- 
ing myself  up  with  the  hope  that  my  troubles  with  the  Wild 
Cat  were  ended,  and,  as  I  thought,  very  happily  to  myself; 
so  that  I  didn't  return  to  the  camp  till  about  dark. 

"  I  forgot  if  I  told  you  that  I  took  little  Paul  with  me  to  the 
Siskehannah.  I  never  could  bear  to  be  away  from  him  more 
than  a  day  or  two  at  a  time  ;  and  now,  when  I  left  the  wig- 
wams to  hunt,  or  look  after  my  traps,  he  frequently  staid  be- 
hmd  with  the  squaws  and  played  with  the  other  children. 
That  night,  as  I  got  home,  I  raaly  think  I  wanted  to  see  him 
more  than  common  ;  and  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  look  after 
him.  But  he  was  not  to  be  found.  Still  I  s'posed  he  was 
somewhere  about,  and  wasn't  alarmed,  as  I  know  of,  but  went 
to  inquiring  for  him  from  one  to  another.  The  squaws  hadn't 
missed  him.  Finally,  come  to  think  back,  the  last  that  any 
one  remembered  of  him,  he  was  at  play,  about  an  hour  before, 
in  a  little  grove  of  alders  ten  or  a  dozen  rods  from  the  camp, 
along  with  Wild  Cat.  Then  Itrembled,  and  run  for  the  alders, 
and  got  the  Indians  to  help  me,  and  we  searched  through  the 
woods  all  around,  and  I  expected  every  minute  to  come  across 
his  murdered  body ;  but  we  searched  in  vain. 

"  We  returned  to  the  camp  before  the  moon  was  up — may 
be  about  ten  o'clock  at  night ;  and  I  called  the  chief  men  and 
warriors  together  and  told  them  the  events  of  the  day — all 
that  had  taken  place  between  me  and  Wild  Cat.  They  were 
very  feelin'  and  friendly  toward  me  ;  and  no  one  tried  to  up- 
hold Wild  Cat  at  all ;  and  most  of  them  were  furious  to  pur- 
sue him  and  put  him  to  death  ;  but  after  a  good  deal  of  delib- 
eration, it  didn't  seem  as  if  any  thing  further  could  be  done 

7 


146  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

before  morning,  on  account  of  the  difficulty  in  getting  on  to  his 
track,  as  he  had  evidently  taken  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  con- 
ceal the  course  he  had  gone.  The  time  we  spent  a  talkin' 
seemed  like  an  age  to  me  ;  and  a  still  further  delay  was  dread- 
ful ;  but  when  I  come  to  think  on't,  'twas  all  right.  As  for 
me,  however,  I  could  not  think  of  rest ;  so  with  a  torch  I  kept 
circling  round  the  camp  till  near  daylight,  when  I  found  an 
arrow  that  I  had  made  for  Paul  the  day  before.  It  lay  in  the 
direction  of  the  white  settlements  on  the  Mohawk,  and  I  didn't 
know  what  to  make  of  it.  I  couldn't  discover  any  tracks. 
'  However,'  said  I,  '  Paul  must  have  been  here  ;'  and  so  I  kept 
on.  There  was  a  little  brook  near  by,  and  I  held  my  light  to 
the  ground,  and  examined  the  banks  up  and  down  two  or  three 
times  over.  Though  it  was  in  the  begmnin'  of  winter,  there 
wasn't  any  snow  yet,  and  the  weather  was  still  mild  and  the 
ground  soft.  Around  the  water  there  were  foot-prints  enough 
in  every  direction.  After  lookin'  among  them  for  a  good 
while,  1  finally  perceived  one  on  the  soft  mold,  which,  from 
its  size  and  the  impression  of  the  mocassin,  I  knew  was 
Paul's.  I  examined  farther  among  the  large  tracks,  and  soon 
detected  Wild  Cat's.  From  this  point  I  made  my  start,  in 
pursuit  of  my  terrible  enemy. 

"  The  Indians  had  taught  me  to  follow  the  track  of  a  man, 
as  the  hound  pursues  its  game  ;  still,  until  broad  day,  I  got 
on  but  slowly,  for  'twas  not  often  that  John  had  left  behind 
him  anypositive  foot-marks." 

"  Were  I  not  so  deeply  interested  in  the  recovery  of  your 
child,"  remarked  Don  Manuel,  "  I  should  like  very  well  to  know 
how  it  is  that  the  Indians  will  pursue  a  foe  through  the  wil- 
derness by  his  trail,  with  so  much  certainty  and  expedition." 

"  That  is  a  faculty  easier  larnt  than  explained,"  replied 
Johnson.  "  The  Indian,  in  fleeing,  avoids  the  bare  ground  all 
that's  possible.  He  jumps  from  log  to  log,  and  stone  to  stone, 
wades  up  and  down  the  streams  for  the  running  water  leaves 


TIIE  OLD  nUNTER'S  STORY.  147 

no  print  of  his  foot;  doubies  on  his  own  tracks,  walks  back- 
ward, and  resorts  to  a  hundred  other  contrivances  to  cover  up 
his  path.  His  pursuers  are  equally  on  the  alert.  It  is  a 
settled  maxim  with  the  Indians  that  a  creater  the  size  of  a 
man  can't  get  through  the  woods  without  leaving  marks  of 
some  kind.  If  the  ground  is  hard,  and  no  track,  the  foot  has 
still  left  an  impression  on  the  dry  leaves,  or  among  the  green 
weeds,  discoverable  to  the  ixperienced  eye  of  the  red  man. 
At  every  step  a  twig  has  been  bent  or  broke,  a  hanging  bough 
displaced,  or  a  leaf  severed  ;  and  they  can  tell  the  time,  al- 
most to  a  minute,  since  it  was  done.  If  a  trail  suddenly  comes 
to  an  end,  a  stone  is  found  off  on  one  side,  to  which  the  object 
of  pursuit  has  jumped  ;  or  he  has  swung  himself  off  on  a  hang- 
ing limb  or  vine  ;  or  he  has  climbed  a  tree  and  let  himself 
down  on  the  other  side.  If  he  has  taken  to  a  stream,  they 
foller  the  banks  up  and  down,  until  they  find  where  he  came 
out,  and  then  foller  on.  It's  the  hardest  thing  in  nater  to  es- 
cape them." 

Don  Manuel  apologized  for  the  interruption,  and  thanked 
Johnson  for  the  explanation  he  had  given  ;  whereupon  the 
veteran  proceeded  with  his  narrative  : 

"  Though  I  could  find  no  more  prints  of  the  little  feet  that 
I  most  cared  to  see,  I  still  felt  sartain  that  I  was  on  the  right 
track.  Gradually  the  trail  bent  around  to  the  northwest,  and 
struck  ofT  in  an  Indian  line.  I  couldn't  think  of  waiting  for 
any  of  the  rest,  so  I  marked  signs  on  the  trees  that  they  would 
understand,  and  pushed  on.  Something  past  noon  I  came  to 
the  place  where  Wild  Cat  had  made  his  first  halt,  and  judged 
I  should  be  able  to  hold  out  till  I  overtook  him.  About  an 
hour  after  dark,  however,  I  lost  the  trail ;  and  though  I  had  a 
good  torch,  I  could  not  possibly  recover  it ;  besides,  from  agi- 
tation and  fatigue,  I  couldn't  walk  without  staggerin' ;  so  I 
laid  myself  down  and  rested  till  mornin'. 

"  When  the  day  broke,  though  I  hadn't  slept  much,  I  felt 


148  CAMP  FIRES  OF   THE  RED  MEN. 

better,  and  in  a  short  time  got  on  the  track  ag'in.  About 
nine  o'clock,  say,  I  found  I  was  gaining  on  my  enemy,  for  T 
came  where  he  had  made  his  second  halt  and  camped  for  the 
night. 

"  But  I  perceive  I  am  getting  too  particular,  daughter,  and 
shall  tire  you  both  out  with  my  long  yarn." 

"  No,  no,  good  Michael,"  returned  the  Lady  Yiola.  "  Y"ou 
can  not  conceive  how  deeply  I  am  interested  for  your  dear 
little  boy.  Do  not  cut  it  short ;  we  sympathize  with  you  in 
every  word." 

"  I  was  able  to  discover  the  spot,"  continued  the  old  man, 
"  where  my  little  Paul  had  sat  and  eat  his  supper,  and  where 
he  had  slept ;  and  the  ground  was  still  moist  with  his  tears. 
Near  by  I  found  his  little  pocket-handkerchief,  where  he  had 
no  doubt  looped  it,  though  so  young,  for  a  sign.  This  is  it," 
said  Johnson,  taking  a  small  white  handkerchief  from  his 
bosom,  marked  with  the  name  of  Lucy.  The  Lady  Viola  took 
it  in  her  hand  in  silence,  and  a  drop  of  pearl  fell  from  her 
eye.     The  veteran  proceeded  : 

"  A  little  way  on,  in  crossing  a  swamp,  I  found  the  plain 
prints  of  his  moccasins  in  the  mud,  and  the  tracks  looked  as 
fresh  as  though  they  were  but  jest  made.  Accordingly  I 
pushed  on  with  good  courage,  and  something  after  noon  came 
to  the  Ginisee  River,  jest  where  there  is  a  sharp  bend,  and 
the  rocks  are  piled  one  upon  another  as  high  as  a  tall  tree. 
Rivers  had  not  stopped  me,  and  I  was  looking  for  a  place  to 
get  down  the  steep  bank,  when  Wild  Cat,  carrying  Paul  in 
his  arms,  suddenly  appeared  in  sight,  and  not  more  than  six 
or  eight  rods  off.  It  was  jest  at  the  bend  in  the  river  I  men- 
tioned, and  we  came  up  nearly  facing  each  other,  both  on  the 
high  bluffs,  but  with  a  great  gap  between  us.  John  got  his 
eye  on  me  the  same  instant  that  I  see  him,  but  he  did  not  run, 
for  he  knew  my  rifle  too  well,  and  in  a  moment  I  had  leveled 
it  at  him.     His  Indian  cunning  taught  him  a  better  way.     He 


TEE  OLD  HUNTEWS  STORY.  149 

sprung  for'ard  to  the  edge  of  the  rocks,  and  holding  my  child 
in  his  hands  between  us,  so  as  in  a  manner  to  shield  himself 
from  my  aim,  held  him  dangling  over  the  gulf,  which  was  so 
deep  that  I  could  hardly  see  down  to  its  black  and  ragged 
bottom.  My  boy  was  crying  and  pale,  and  seeing  me  he 
screamed  for  his  father  to  help  him.  It  turned  dark  to  me, 
and  my  gun  fell  at  my  feet. 

"  When  John  see  he  had  prevailed,  he  took  Paul  down,  and 
broke  into  a  taunting  laugh. 

" '  Paul  shall  be  the  son  of  the  Wild  Cat,'  said  he,  '  and  the 
White  Eagle  must  go  back  as  he  came.  He  can  not  fly  swift 
enough  to  save  his  young  one  from  the  rocks  ;'  and  he  pointed 
down  the  precipice  at  his  feet.  '  The  White  Eagle  must  go 
back.' 

" '  John!  John !'  said  I,  ' give  me  Paul  and  I  will  go  back 
I  will  go  anywhere  you  say — to  my  own  people,  leave  the 
woods  and  the  Indians,  and  never  come  back.  I'll  give  you 
my  guns,  my  blankets,  my  traps,  and  all  I  have  in  the  world 
for  Paul.' 

"  Wild  Cat  shook  his  head.  '  The  bad  spirit  gives  lies  to 
the  white  man,'  said  he.  '  The  young  eagle  must  forget  how 
to  fly,  and  learn  to  jump  like  the  Wild  Cat ;  and  the  old  one 
must  go  back.' 

"  '  Oh,  say  not  so,  good  John !'  I  replied  in  my  misery.  '  I 
tell  you  no  lie.  I  swear  by  the  Great  Spirit — by  the  sun  and 
the  earth,  that  all  I  have  shall  be  yours,  only  give  me  back 
my  child.' 

.  "  I  started  as  though  to  find  some  way  to  get  to  him.  He 
waved  his  hand.  '  Come  not,'  he  said ;  '  the  White  Eagle 
must  come  no  farther.  If  he  crosses  this  water,  the  claws  of 
the  Wild  Cat  shall  tear  the  heart  of  his  young  one.  If  he  stirs 
from  the  rock  where  he  stands,  till  the  great  orb  sleeps,  his 
nestling  shall  die.' 

"  He  gave  me  no  time  to  say  more,  but,  with  his  eye  fixed 


150  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

on  me,  retreated  backward ;  and  J  then  heard  my  darling 
boy's  voice  for  the  last  time,  as  with  wild  and  choking  shrieks, 
he  cried  to  his  father  to  save  him. 

"  I  believe  I  was  about  crazy  for  a  while.  I  lay  down  on 
the  rocks  and  had  strange  fancies  in  my  head.  Lucy  came 
to  me,  dressed  like  an  angel  of  light,  and  told  me  not  to  mourn, 
for  I  should  see  Paul  ag'in  before  I  died.  She  bathed  my 
temples  with  a  fragrant  dew,  and  sung  me  to  sleep  with  such 
music  as  they  have  in  heaven. 

"  When  I  waked  up  she  was  gone.  I  felt  refreshed,  but  a 
great  fury  came  over  me  as  I  discovered  John  and  Paul  in  a 
canoe  on  the  river.  I  raged  like  a  madman  for  a  little  time, 
but  I  see  'twas  of  no  use,  and  quieting  down  I  stretched  out 
my  arms  to  God,  and  told  him  Pd  trust  him  with  Paul,  even 
in  the  hands  of  Wild  Cat.  I  set  down  on  the  rock  ag'in,  and 
was  pretty  much  stupid,  I  should  think,  till  about  night,  when 
the  Indians  came  up. 

"  My  Mohawk  friends  were  eager  to  foller  on  in  pursuit, 
but  I  was  of  a  different  opinion.  I  thought  it  would  only  en- 
danger Paul.  Doubtless  we  might  overtake  and  kill  the 
Wild  Cat,  but  I  knew  that  cruel  savage  too  well  to  believe 
that  he  would  ever  suffer  my  boy  to  fall  into  our  hands  alive. 
The  Mohawks  finally  gave  way,  and  we  camped  on  the  river- 
bank  for  the  night. 

"  On  the  following  mornin'  I  colored  my  skin  the  hue  of 
copper,  painted  my  face,  shaved  my  head,  and  chtmged  into  a 
complete  Indian,  determined  to  dog  my  enemy  secretly  and 
alone.  My  friends,  with  the  best  wishes,  bid  me  good-bye 
and  returned  home.  I  crossed  the  Ginesee,  but  John  had 
taken  such  precautions  to  conceal  his  course  that  I  couldn't 
track  him.  I  had  watched  him  till  he  landed  on  the  opposite 
bank,  but  now  discovered  that  he  had  taken  to  the  water  ag'in 
with  his  canoe,  and  on  that  wide  river  all  trace  of  him  was 
lost.     Judging  most  likely  that  he  had  laid  his  course  for  the 


TEE  OLD  EUNTER>a  STORY.  151 

country  of  the  Hurons,  I  cautiously  bent  my  steps  in  that  di- 
rection. I  crossed  the  Nigara,  and  visited  most  of  the  tribes 
around  the  Great  Lakes,  but  could  learn  nothing  of  him,  and 
in  two  or  three  months  returned  to  the  Mohawk  Yalley. 

"  The  next  spring  Hendrick  sent  out  spies  to  the  distant 
tributaries  of  the  Six  Nations,  among  the  Hurons,  and  many 
other  far-off  tribes.  It  was  at  last  owned  by  the  Hurons  that 
Wild  Cat  had  been  with  them.  At  length  he  was  met  by  one 
of  our  scouts  in  a  distant  hunting-party  of  that  nation.  He 
sent  back  his  answer  and  defiance  to  me  in  these  words  : 

"  '  The  White  Eagle  passed  the  lake-stream  and  his  nest- 
ling is  dead.  Wild  Cat  goes  behind  the  Great  River.  If  the 
White  Eagle  darkens  his  path  he  shall  follow  on  the  trail  of 
his  son.' 

"  Nothin'  more,"  continued  the  old  hunter,  "  has  been  heard 
from  either  to  this  day.  For  years  I  made  it  my  home  with 
the  Mohawks,  but  all  my  comfort  was  gone.  I  became  as 
one  of  them,  and  joined  them  in  their  wars  and  their  hunts. 
In  every  distant  expedition  I  was  sure  to  be  one.  I  have 
roamed  through  the  great  forests,  and  all  America  over ;  have 
hunted  and  trapped  on  the  frozen  lakes  of  the  north,  and  on 
the  rivers  far  west  of  the  Massippi.  In  my  long  wandering 
life  there  has  been  little  aim  that  any  one  could  see,  still  in 
all  I've  had  a  secret  hope  that  I  might  yet  learn  somethin' 
more  of  Wild  Cat  and  my  little  Paul.  Such  was  the  secret 
arrand  which  led  m'e  among  the  Indian  tribes  of  Mexico,  where 
I  had  the  happiness  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  your  noble 
father.  I  s'pose  it  is  the  streams  and  the  hills  that  I  used  to 
see  that  call  these  things  of  late  so  much  into  my  mind,  and 
set  the  whole  afore  me  ag'in  as  fresh  as  a  deed  of  yesterday ; 
if  it  is  not,  God  help  me  !  I  know  not  what  it  is." 

The  old  man  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  for  some 
time  sat  silent  and  motionless,  save  a  slight  tremor  of  the 
limbs.     At  length  he  arose  to  depart,  when  Don  Manuel  said 


152  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN: 

"  I  am  not  callous  to  the  feelings  of  a  parent,  friend  John- 
son, and  you  have  my  deepest  sympathy.  Notwithstanding 
the  lapse  of  years,  and  Wild  Cat's  message,  I  think  you  have 
still  grounds  for  hope.  It  is  not  the  Indian  custom  to  adopt  a 
prisoner,  especially  a  child,  and  then  destroy  him.  The  ob- 
ject of  the  savage  was  probably  to  discourage  pursuit." 

"  He  could  not — he  could  not  have  harmed  him  !"  exclaimed 
the  Lady  Viola,  with  much  feeling,  as  she  took  the  veteran 
kindly  by  the  hand.  "  Even  the  cruel  revenge  of  Wild  Cat 
could  not  do  a  deed  like  that." 

The  gray-haired  father  shook  his  head.  He  answered  not, 
but  with  a  strong  effort  regained  his  composure  and  left  the 
tent  with  his  usual  firm  step. 


ajjtu  ftoents. 


^N    ALARM.    CONFIDENTIAL    COMMUNICATIONS    BETWEEN    A     FATHER    AND 
DAUGHTER. 


•  The  Indian  whoop  is  on  the  distant  hill, 
His  war-cry  shakes  the  frightened  summer  air." 


WHEN  Johnson  found  himself  in  the  open  air,  he  paused 
and  cast  his  eyes  over  the  whole  visible  heavens,  where 
not  a  cloud  was  moving  to  intercept  the  twinkling  of  the  stars, 
save  the  almost  imperceptibly  mists  that  ascended  from  the 
camp,  and  some  faint  shadows  which  quietly  stole  over  the 
tops  of  the  trees  in  the  distance,  betokening  to  his  experienced 
eye  the  vicinfly  of  the  Indian  fires.  Feeling  ill  at  ease,  and 
in  his  own  consciousness,  that  more  watchfulness  was  requi- 
site than  the  circumstances  which  surrounded  them  would 
seem  to  indicate,  he  proceeded  along  the  line  of  palisades, 
spoke  each  sentinel  at  his  post,  and  examined  critically  into 
the  condition  of  the  encampment.  Satisfying  himself  that  all 
was  well,  he  at  length  retired  to  his  own  tent,  and  wrapping 
himself  in  his  great-coat,  lay  down  on  his  blanket  until  the 
rising  of  the  moon  should  call  him  up  to  lead  the  expedition 
proposed  by  Don  Ferdinand,  which  it  had  been  determined 
to  get  under  way  that  very  night.  Three  or  four  hours  later, 
the  small  party  detailed  for  the  purpose,  headed  by  the  old 
man  and  the  chevalier,  silently  let  themselves  out  of  the  for- 
tress, and  proceeded  on  their  way. 

The  morning  came  bright  and  cheerily  to  the  Spanish  camp, 
and  Don  Manuel,  in  pursuyrice  of  some  suggestions   made  by 


154  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

Johnson,  turned  his  attention  to  the  strengthening  of  his  defenses. 
While  a  portion  of  his  men  were  engaged  on  a  trench,  as  a 
support  to  the  most  exposed  part  of  the  pickets,  others  pro- 
ceeded to  the  erection  of  a  small  building  of  logs,  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  inclosure,  for  the  better  accommodation  and  security 
of  the  Lady  Viola.  By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  these 
were  nearly  completed ;  when  suddenly  each  soldier  dropped 
his  spade  or  axe,  and  seized  his  weapons.  Cries,  faint  and 
distant,  came  down  on  the  breeze  from  the  .north,  but  of  such 
a  character  as  to  alarm  and  horrify  every  member  of  the  en- 
campment. The  wild  terrifying  war-whoop,  always  enough  to 
curdle  the  blood,  and  then  heard  by  the  Spaniards  for  the  first 
time,  rung  through  the  valley. 

The  first  idea,  of  course,  was  of  an  attack,  and  each  soldier 
hurried  to  his  post.  By  the  aid  of  his  glass,  meanwhile,  Don 
Manuel  was  able  to  discover  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  at  about  a 
mile's  distance  the  point  from  which  the  sounds  proceeded. 
A  party  of  savages  were  there  assembled  for  the  celebration 
of  a  powwow,  or  for  some  purpose  or  demonstration  the  nature 
of  which  he  could  not  understand.  They  leaped  about  with 
singular  dexterity,  brandishing  their  knives  and  tomahawks  in 
each  other's  faces,  and  uttering,  as  they  performed  their  antics, 
those  extraordinary  yells  which  had  at  first  alarmed  the  en- 
campment. Don  Manuel  thought  he  was  able  to  perceive 
from  some  of  their  attitudes  and  gestures,  that  a  portion  at 
least  of  their  apparent  rage  was  directed  toward  the  Spanish 
quarters.  In  about  an  hour  the  strange  exhibition  was  brought 
to  a  close,  when  bearing  off  on  a  sort  of  rude  litter  the  body  of 
a  man  who,  Don  Manuel  concluded,  had  been  killed  or  disabled 
in  the  performance  of  their  ferocious  rites,  they  disappeared. 

This  occurrence  very  naturally  left  an  unpleasant  impression 
on  the  mind  of  Don  Manuel :  he  found  himself  oppressed  with 
anxiety,  and  when  the  labors  of  the  day  were  closed,  and  the 
twilight  began  to  scatter  its  mists  over  the  valleys  and  hills 


AN  ALARM.  J  55 


which  surrounded  his  little  camp  in  the  wilderness,  threatened 
as  he  feared  by  savage  hordes,  and  cut  off  from  human  succor 
he  was  still  in  the  open  air,  passing  from  one  point  of  the  de- 
fenses to  another,  cautioning  tind  encouraging  the  sentinels  at 
their  posts  ;  and  though  cool  and  collected,  for  he  was  a  brave 
man,  his  black  eye,  even  when  he  could  no  longer  see  with 
any  distinctness,  was  often  turned  inquiringly  in  the  direction 
of  the  northern  hills.  As  he  did  not  seem  disposed  to  retire 
to  his  quarters,  the  Lady  Viola  joined  him.  She  was  robed 
in  her  mantelet  and  hat,  and  brought  forth  her  father's  cloak 
on  her  arm,  to  shield  him  from  the  chill  of  night.  As  she 
placed  the  garment  on  his  shoulders,  he  imprinted  a  kiss  on 
her  fair  brow,  and  kindly  took  her  hand. 

"  I  hope  that  the  unusual  displays  of  the  afternoon,"  said  he, 
"  have  not  frightened  my  child  ?" 

"  The  daughter  of  a  soldier,  I  have  heard  it  said,"  returned 
the  Lady  Viola,  "  should  not  know  fear ;  and  still,  methinks, 
there  are  sounds  in  nature  more  agreeable  to  the  ear  and  more 
congenial  to  the  heart  than  the  howlings  of  those  forest  men. 
Would  that  good  Michael  were  here  to  tell  us  the  meaning  of 
what  we  have  seen  and  heard  this  day." 

"  Michael  Johnson  is  wise  and  prudent,"  said  Don  Manuel, 
"  and  particularly  learned  in  every  thing  relating  to  the  cere- 
monies and  customs  of  these  red  men.  Were  he  here  he 
would  doubtless  be  able  to  satisfy  our  curiosity.  I  think  we 
can  hardly  need  him  for  any  thing  beyond,  for  we  have  no 
evidence  that  those  singular  proceedings  of  the  savages  have 
any  relation  whatever  to  us.  In  any  event,  we  are  well  arm- 
ed, have  a  strong  position,  and  can  defend  ourselves." 

"  True,  father,  and  the  faithful  sentinels  are  at  their  posts. 
There  is  therefore  no  need  that  you  longer  keep  watch  in  per- 
son at  the  outworks,  and  after  the  toil  of  this  day  you  require 
refreshment  and  rest.  Let  us  go  in  from  the  night  air,  and  I 
will  see  if  my  guitar  still  has  the  quality  of  music  in  it." 


156  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

Don  Manuel  replied  not,  and  Viola  continued : 

"  The  whippoorwill  is  singing  his  farewell  to  the  day.  How 
sweet  and  plaintive !  I  love  his  notes  ;  they  seem  the  echo 
of  a  human  chord,  to  harmonize  with  the  feelings,  the  hopes 
and  fears  and  sorrows,  which  would  appear  to  be  the  common 
portion  of  humanity." 

"  And  are  you  then  so  sad-hearted,  my  daughter  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  not  sad-hearted,"  said  Viola,  quickly.  "  I  was  not 
thinking  of  myself." 

"  You  had  in  part,  perhaps,  your  father  in  your  mind,"  said 
Don  Manuel.  "  I  might,  it  is  true,  with  very  great  propriety, 
blend  the  farewell  of  an  exile  to  his  native  land  with  the 
strains  of  that  melancholy  bird." 

"  Oh,  say  not  so,  father !  Indulge  not  in  such  fancies.  Our 
own  sweet  home  we  will  see  again ;  and  you  shall  lead  me, 
and  again  I  will  weep  on  the  grave  of  my  mother." 

«  Viola !" 

"  Father  !" 

"  Your  mother  is  a  saint  in  heaven — ^there,  or  there,  or  there, 
among  some  of  those  bright  stars.  Here,  in  the  presence  of 
her  pure  spirit,  I  must  speak  to  you  to-night  of  what  I  have 
delayed  too  long.  I  can  no  longer  withhold.  I  must  speak  to 
you  plainly  of  my  affairs,  and  urge  you  to  your  duty.  Oh,  my 
dear  child !  Were  you  but  safe  and  happy,  how  gladly  would 
I  rest  with  her  !" 

"  Father,"  said  Viola,  softly,  while  her  eye  stole  fearfully  and 
timidly  to  his,  like  a  gem  just  melting  in  a  bed  of  coral,  "  you 
wrong  your  daughter.  What  could  Viola  be  without  her 
father  ?" 

"  Daughter,"  said  Don  Manuel,  with  emphasis,  "  I  fear  I  am 
wrong  to  excite  you  thus  ;  but  it  is  now  both  proper  and 
necessary  that  you  should  understand  my  situation  fully,  and 
the  motives  which  influence  me.  I  shall  hardly  see  Spain 
£^gain.     Life  and  safety  I  no  longer  value  but  for  your  sake. 


AN  ALARM.  157 


Fortune,  I  now  have  none.  The  wreck  of  it  was  buried  in 
the  ocean.  The  blow  that  drove  me  beyond  the  power  of  my 
country,  divided  me  from  my  estates.  Our  broad  Andalusian 
lands  are  seized  ;  they  are  in  the  grasp  of  the  spoiler ;  we 
have  no  home.  The  grave  of  your  mother  is  in  the  keeping 
of  strangers  ;  who,  could  I  return,  might  contest  my  right  to 
her  bones,  and  tax  me  a  pistole  for  the  privilege  of  moisten- 
ing the  sod  that  covers  her  with  my  tears.  Nay,  interrupt  me 
not,  but  hear.  My  only  child  need  not,  must  not  fall  so  low. 
Her  worth,  her  beauty,  and  position  alike  render  it  unneces- 
sary. Cassino  is  rich  and  powerful,  and  will  sustain,  in  this 
emergency,  the  fortunes  of  our  house.  As  his  wife,  the  time 
will  come  when  you  may  demand  of  your  sovereign,  and  re- 
ceive at  his  hands,  the  estates  which  of  right  are  yours. 
Viola,  I  await  your  answer.     You  will  not  disappoint  me?" 

"  Oh,  press  me  not  to-night,  dear  father,"  gasped  the  Lady 
Viola.  "  Would  that  Don  Ferdinand  were  back  in  Spain, 
and  we  were  anywhere  in  safety  and  quiet.  What  is  the  dross 
of  splendor  to  a  child  whose  parent  is  an  exile  ?" 

Her  head  sunk  on  his  bosom  ;  and  perceiving  that  she 
trembled  much,  he  supported  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Have  I  alarmed  you  by  my  impetuosity  ?"  he  tenderly  in- 
quired. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Viola,  quickly. 

"  Then  promise  me  to-night,  now,  that  you  will  no  longer 
oppose  my  wishes." 

"  I  can  not,  dear  father,"  sighed  Viola. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Don  Manuel,  thrusting  his  daughter 
from  him,  and  holding  her  at  arm's  length,  while  his  face  grew 
purple  with  excitement.      "  Do  you  refuse  stil]  to  obey  me  ?" 

"  O  God !  O  blessed  Mary  Mother  !  what  will  become  of 
me  ?"  said  the  Lady  Viola,  in  agony.  "  Why  will  you  urge 
me  to  destroy  myself,  both  for  this  world  and  the  next  ?  You 
love  me,  father  ;  then  why  ask  me  to  cover  my  hopes  and  my 


.  58  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

heart  with  milde.w,  and  embrace  a  fate  more  revolting  than 
death  !  You  wish  to  see  me  happy,  why  then  consign  me  to 
a  hfe  of  unmixed  misery  and  degradation  ?" 

"  You  speak  with  pathos,  Viola,"  said  Don  Manuel,  sarcas- 
tically, "  and  as  though  there  might  be  something  of  inspira- 
tion in  your  heart,  as  well  as  on  your  lips.  Can  it  be  that  our 
good  American  friend,  Captain  Warwick,  has  taught  you  a  les- 
son beyond  the  power  of  your  own  reason,  or  your  father's  au- 
thority, to  gainsay  T 

"  However  much  I  may  esteem  Captain  Warwick,"  re- 
turned Viola,  firmly,  for  her  trying  position  had  forced  her  to 
rally  and  rely  on  herself,  "  it  has  little  to  do  with  the  estima- 
tion in  which  I  hold  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino.  My  answer 
to  him  from  the  first  has  been,  nayP 

"  And  will  my  daughter  be  so  good  as  to  explain  to  her 
father  the  reasons  for  this  pertinacious  nay  to  the  noble  Cas- 
tilian's  suit  ?" 

"  I  love  him  not." 

"  Well,  well,  child ;  I  had  no  particular  affection  for  your 
mother  when  we  married  ;  indeed,  I  had  scarcely  seen  her 
thrice  ;  and  yet  we  lived,  oh,  how  pleasantly  together !  and 
how  deep  and  abiding  was  the  love  I  learned  to  bear  her  !" 

**  But  had  my  saintrti  mother  been  cold  and  false  ;  had  she 
been  mean  and  treacherous,  and  blackened  with  infamy  and 
crimes,  could  you  have  loved  her  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  replied  Don  Manuel. 

"  Then  think  no  longer  that  it  may  be  possible  for  me  to 
love  Don  Ferdinand." 

"  Viola,  what  mean  you  ?"  said  her  father,  quickly. 

"  I  mean,"  returned  the  Lady  Viola,  "  that  were  I  his  wife, 
I  should  not  feel  that  I  had  any  guaranty  in  his  integrity  or 
honor  for  the  safety  of  my  person  or  my  life." 

"  Oh,  Viola  !  Viola  !"  exclaimed  Don  Manuel,  with  an  ex* 
pression  of  horror  on  his  countenance.     "  What  mad  delusion 


AN  ALARM.  150 


has  possessed  your  brain  ?  Can  not  your  own  perverse  course 
be  sustained  without  blackening  the  fair  fame  of  another  ?" 

''  It  is  hard,"  replied  Viola,  "  for  a  child  to  know  that  she 
has  become  an  object  of  doubt  and  suspicion  to  her  parent, 
whose  smiles  and  confidence  have  hitherto  been  the  sunshine 
and  joy  of  her  life  ;  but,  father,  such  must  your  daughter  re- 
main to  you,  until  God  will  that  she  succeed  in  opening  your 
eyes  to  the  true  character  of  him  you  would  call  your  son." 

Don  Manuel  sunk  into  thoughtfulness  and  silence,  and  his 
daughter  led  him  gently  along  into  the  log  house  which  had 
that  day  been  erected,  and  was  now  devoted  to  their  joint  ac- 
commodation. A  cheerful  fire  was  burning  on  a  loose  stone 
hearth,  to  dispel  the  dampness  of  the  green  wooden  walls  ; 
and  before  it  the  two  seated  themselves  on  some  matted  stools. 
As  her  father  made  no  reply,  the  Lady  Viola,  with  a  strong 
and  resolute  effort,  which  surprised  herself,  continued  : 

"  To  say  nothing  of  the  dissolute  habits  of  Don  Ferdinand's 
life,  to  leave  all  else  and  come  at  once  to  an  act  illustrative 
of  the  man,  of  such  a  pointed  nature  as  to  satisfy  all  to  whom 
it  may  become  known,  I  have  only  to  refer  you  to  an  occur- 
rence in  New  York.  The  attempt  of  an  assassin  on  the  life 
of  Captain  Warwick,  on  the  night  of  the  ball  at  Governor 
Clinton's,  you  can  not  have  forgotten,  as  it  was  a  mattea(|^f 
free  remark  at  our  house  ?" 

"  I  remember  the  circumstance  well,"  replied  Don  Manuel. 
"  Warwick  mastered  the  villain,  and  handed  him  over  to  the 
police.     I  never  heard  what  became  of  him." 

"  Supposing  him  some  vagabond,  impelled  perhaps  by  his 
necessities  to  commit  a  robbery,  the  generous  American  neg- 
lected to  appear  against  him,  and  he  was  discharged." 

"  But  what  can  all  this  have  to  do  with  Don  Ferdinand  ?" 
said  Don  Manuel,  impatiently. 

"  Enough  !  enough  !"  replied  the  Lady  Viola.  "  Father, 
the  bravo  was  his  servant  Ambrose." 


160  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN: 

"  0  God  !  you  can  not  know  this,  Viola  ?" 

"  I  do !  I  do  !  father.  On  the  day  following  the  vile  at- 
tempt, as  I  sat  reading  in  the  garden  in  an  usual  spot — a  little 
nook,  among  some  vines  which  I  had  compelled  for  the  hour 
to  furnish  me  with  a  shade — Don  Ferdinand  came  to  the  same 
place,  to  receive,  it  seems,  the  report  of  his  man.  The  two 
were  but  a  few  paces  from  me,  and  I  must  needs  hear  all  they 
said." 

Viola  paused. 

"  What  did  you  hear*?"  almost  shrieked  Don  Manuel. 

"  The  servant  told  of  his  failure,  and  the  master  cursed  him 
for  a  coward,  and  swore  the  deed  should  be  accomplished, 
though  he  performed  it  himself." 

"  What  deed,  Viola  ?  Merciful  Heaven  !  You  have  con- 
nected some  two  strange  events  together  in  your  mind,  which 
can  have  no  proper  relation  to  each  other." 

Viola  perceived  that  the  countenance  of  her  father  had  be- 
come white  a«  marble. 

"  You  are  ill  ?"  said  she,  in  alarm. 

"  No,  I  am  in  torture.  Give  me  the  evidence !"  said  he, 
imperatively. 

"  I  should  be  quite  willing  to  have  your  supposition  cor- 
ifikt,  father,"  continued  the  Lady  Viola  ;  "  but  there  can  be 
no  room  for  doubt.  I  had  my  first  intelligence  of  the  attempt 
to  assassinate  Captain  Warwick  from  the  conversation  to 
which  I  refer.  Don  Ferdinand  required  a  minute  report  of 
his  proceedings  from  his  agent.  Ambrose  claimed  to  have 
followed  his  instructions  implicitly.  In  the  narrative  he  gave 
he  related  how  he  had  followed  Warwick  from  the  Governor's 
castle  to  the  beach  overlooking  the  Bay ;  that  for  some  time 
the  American  officer  walked  back  and  forth  beneath  the  clear 
moon  in  such  an  open  space  that  he  could  not  approach  him 
unseen ;  that  finally  he  reclined  against  a  tree  and  seemed 
lost  in  his  own  reflections  ;  when,  grasping  his  dagger,  the  fit 


AN  ALARM.  \Q\ 


menial  of  such  a  lord,  the  valiant  Ambrose  of  that  most  valiant 
and  honorable  Castilian,  Cassino,  stole  up  behind  his  intended 
victim,  and  sprung  upon  him.  Being  so  heavily  laden,  how- 
ever, with  his  master's  virtues,  in  addition  to  his  own,  the 
man  fell  short  of  his  aim,  and  became  a  spoil  himself/' 

Don  Manuel  writhed  and  quivered  in  agony.  The  Lady 
Viola  had  spoken  with  a  point  and  spirit  which  he  had  never 
witnessed  before  ;  and  he  was  dumb. 

"  If  you  desire  further  proof,"  continued  she,  after  a  few 
moments'  silence,  "  you  may  have  it,  I  think,  from  Michael 
Johnson.  Distressed  as  I  was  at  what  I  had  thus  accidentally 
learned,  and  fearful  lest  a  member  of  our  own  household  should 
find  means  to  carry  out  his  purpose,  and  actually  murder  the 
benefactor  of  us  all,  I  determined  to  confide  the  matter  to 
Michael,  and  take  his  advice.  I  found  him,  however,  by 
some  means  which  he  did  not  explain,  already  aware  of 
Ferdinand's  machinations.  He  assured  me  that  Captain 
Warwick  was  on  his  guard,  and  that  Cassino  would  be  closely 
watched." 

"  Enough  !  enough  !  daughter,"  said  Don  Manuel.  "  I  re- 
quire nothing  more.  My  mind  is  not  frenzied,  my  heart  is 
not  frozen,  however  I  may  seem.  My  poor  brain  !  my  poor 
child  !  How  much  you  have  suffered  from  my  blindness  ! 
But  why  has  all  this  been  kept  away  from  me  1  Was  not 
your  father,  Viola,  above  all  others,  entitled  to  your  con- 
fidence ?" 

"  I  know  not,  dear  father,"  replied  Viola,  "  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  explain,  to  your  satisfaction,  the  reasons  which  in- 
duced me  to  say  nothing  to  you  on  this  subject ;  and  quite 
likely  I  have  misjudged  and  have  done  very  wrong ;  but  you 
have  always  made  light  to  me  of  the  vices  of  Don  Ferdinand  ; 
and  besides,  I  feared  that  a  rupture  between  you  two,  just  at 
present,  might  be  disastrous.  I  knew  not,  but  I  feared,  that 
we  might  be  too  much  in  his  power  to  brave  him." 


162  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEK 

Don  Manuel  made  no  reply.  He  had  become  calm  again, 
and  sat  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts  ;  while  an  air  of 
quiet  firmness  and  resolution  stole  gradually  over  his  fea- 
tures, more  hopeful  to  his  daughter,  and  more  pregnant  with 
meaning  than  words.  The  conversation,  for  that  night,  was 
not  renewed. 


DON  MANUEL  TORRILLO. 


"  FratI  as  the  moth's  fair  wing  is  common  fame. 
Brief  as  the  sunlight  of  an  April  morn." 


DON  MANUEL  TORRILLO  was  a  native  of  Cordova,  a 
city  of  Andalusia,  and  inherited  the  wealth  and  importance 
of  an  ancient  and  illustrious  house.  He  had  been  a  soldier  in 
his  youth,  but  his  inclinations  leading  him  to  seek  for  political, 
rather  than  military  eminence,  he  abandoned  the  profession 
of  arms,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  business  and  intrigues 
of  the  court.  Though,  like  most  of  his  countrymen,  he  was 
possessed  of  quick  feelings  and  a  susceptible  heart,  still,  ow- 
ing to  the  circumstances  which  surrounded  him,  his  engross 
ment  with  public  affairs,  and,  more  than  all,  the  social  habits  of 
the  circle  in  which  he  moved,  he  was  somewhat  advanced  in 
life  before  he  seriously  thought  of  marriage  ;  and  when  he 
finally  did  marry,  it  was  at  the  solicitation  and  for  the  gratifi- 
cation  of  others,  his  family  and  friends.  His  wife  was  of 
their  choosing,  and  the  whole  affair  was  one  with  which  his 
affections  had  little  or  no  concern. 

The  match  was  a  very  suitable  one  on  the  score  of  rank 
and  fortune  ;  and  luckily  for  Don  Manuel,  his  partner  was 
possessed  of  so  much  good  sense  and  prudence,  that  during 
her  life  he  never  once  had  occasion  to  regret  their  union,  nor 
ever  suspected  that  she  was  not  as  happy  as  himself.     But 


164  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK.      ^ 

far  different  was  it  with  her.  The  affections  of  the  Lady  Tor- 
rillo  had  been  sacrificed  by  her  parents  at  the  shrine  of  con- 
venience ;  but  in  the  position  they  secured  for  her  she  was  the 
envy  of  the  world  :  and  at  her  early  death  no  one  took  the 
trouble  to  reflect  that  from  the  period  of  her  marriage  her 
cheek  had  gradually  grown  pale  and  paler,  and  her  eye  less 
brilliant,  until  she  had  withered  away,  like  a  flower  trans- 
planted from  a  garden  to  a  desert.  And  no  one  among  the 
rich  display  of  her  funeral  ceremonies  imagined  that  the  Lady 
Torrillo  ever  had  cause  of  sorrow,  except  her  parents,  who 
moved  silently  but  stricken  in  the  train  of  mourners,  conscious 
that  they  themselves  had  crushed  the  jewel  of  their  hearts  ; 
and  the  weeping  Viola,  then  a  child,  who  had  clung  to  her 
mother  like  a  tendril  to  its  support,  and  long  since  had  dis- 
covered, though  she  comprehended  it  not,  in  the  hopeless  mel- 
ancholy of  her  parent,  the  worm  which  prayed  on  her  life. 

Don  Manuel,  though  he  had  so  little  to  do  with  love  before 
marriage,  had  subsequently  become  much  attached  to  his 
amiable  wife,  and  mourned  her  loss  with  a  deep  and  abiding 
sincerity.  The  splendor  of  the  court,  the  strife  for  political 
mastery,  which  heretofore  had  yielded  him  pleasure,  now  be- 
came a  burden  and  a  toil  to  him.  He  gradually  withdrew 
from  them,  and  devoted  much  of  his  attention  to  the  society 
and  education  of  his  child.  She,  meanwhile,  grew  up  the 
blithest  of  Andalusian  maids,  as  happy  as  the  birds  that  car- 
oled with  her  in  her  native  orange  groves,  and  the  fairest 
thing  reflected  by  the  silver  Guadalquiver.  But  ere  her  edu- 
cation was  completed,  Don  Manuel  received  from  his  Sover- 
eign a  high  civil  appointment  in  Spanish  America,  which, 
under  some  peculiar  circumstances,  he  did  not  deem  himself 
at  liberty  to  decline.  He  therefore  with  pain  and  anxiety  at 
the  prospect  of  a  long  separation,  consigned  his  daughter  to 
the  guardianship  of  a  sister  in  Madrid,  and  himself  set  sail  for 
the  New  World. 


DON  MAiruSL   TORRILLO.  163 

In  Mexico,  he  found  the  novelty  of  his  situation  and  the 
cares  of  his  office  an  agreeable  palliative  to  his  loneliness  ; 
still  he  hailed  with  joy  the  closing  of  the  two  years,  when  his 
daughter  was  to  join  liim  ;  and  received  her  to  his  arms,  the 
blushing  woman,  radiant  as  a  star ;  a  matured  and  improved 
copy  of  her  he  had  lost,  and  the  only  object  for  which  he  still 
cared  to  live  and  struggle  with  the  world. 

The  arrival  of  the  Lady  Viola  in  Mexico  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  that  of  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  who  was  some 
eight  years  her  senior,  and  to  whom  in  early  childhood 
she  had  been  betrothed,  in  spite  of  the  feebly  urged,  but 
strongly  felt,  objections  of  her  mother,  and  who,  spurred  into 
a  sort  of  passion  by  the  homage  yielded  to  his  affianced  dur- 
ing her  Madrid  life,  "now  came,  full  of  impatience,  for  the 
consummation  of  his  wishes  by  the  performance  of  those 
rites  which  were  to  place  him  in  possession  of  an  object  of 
such  general  envy  and  adulation.  But  from  some  cause  Vi- 
ola seemed  little  inclined  to  marriage  at  all ;  and  the  only 
perversity  of  disposition  she  had  ever  shown  since  she  could 
lay  any  claim  to  the  dignity  of  womanhood  was  in  her  quiet 
but  resolute  rejection  of  the  suit  of  Don  Ferdinand.  To  Vi- 
ola had  been  confided  by  her  grandparents  the  story  of  her 
mother ;  and  though  she  failed  to  understand  how  any  one 
could  refrain  from  loving  her  kind  and  noble  father,  the  lesson 
was  not  lost  on  her.  She  preserved  it  in  her  heart,  and 
conned  it  when  she  was  alone  ;  and  what  about  it  she  could 
not  comprehend,  she  trustingly  referred  to  the  category  of 
problems  which  were  to  receive  their  solution  in  the  future, 
when  she  should  become  better  versed  in  the  mysterious  al- 
chemy of  love. 

The  union  of  his  daughter  with  the  son  of  an  old  friend 
and  companion'at  arms  had  Ipng  been  a  favorite  project  with 
Don  Manuel ;  and  although  the  gradual  lopping  off  of  his  own 
hopes  had  centered  his  affections  in  his  daughter  so  far  as  to 


166  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

make  him  averse  to  forcing  her  inclinations,  still  he  by  no 
means  considered  the  forbearance  which  he  felt  disposed  to 
exercise  as  at  all  important  to  the  ultimate  happiness  of  his 
child.  He  could  conceive  no  reasonable  objections  to  the 
forming  of  an  alliance  and  the  fulfillment  of  an  engagement 
every  way  so  proper ;  and  not  dreaming  that  Viola's  disincli- 
nation proceeded  from  any  thing  more  serious  than  maiden 
coyness  or  disrelish  of  restraint,  he  encouraged  Don  Ferdi- 
nand to  persevere  in  his  attentions,  and  himself  indulged  no 
other  idea  than  that  of  a  happy  result. 

On  the  part  of  the  Lady  Viola  these  attentions  were  re- 
ceived with  such  cold  politeness,  and  at  times  with  such 
manifest  disgust,  as  could  not  have  failed  to  convince  any  one 
of  the  hopelessness  of  his  suit,  other  than  him  who  knows 
little  of  woman's  heart,  and  is  ignorant  that  her  affections  are 
not  the  toys,  but  the  business  of  her  life.  Don  Ferdinand 
from  the  first,  considering  Viola  as  his  future  wife,  had  neg- 
lected those  little  gallantries  and  kindly  offices  which  imper- 
ceptibly win  the  heart,  and  seemed  careless  of  her  regard, 
until  his  jealousy  was  aroused  by  beholding  her  an  object  of 
interest  to  others.  Then  indeed  there  was  a  change,  but  it 
came  too  late.  Viola  saw  through  the  flimsy  vail  with  which 
he  attempted  to  conceal  his  motives.  She  saw  that  he  was 
heartless  ;  and  he  himself,  in  his  carelessness  of  her  good 
opinion,  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  conceal  from  her  that  he 
was  also  licentious.  To  her,  therefore,  his  sudden  protesta- 
tions of  esteem,  the  honeyed  words  with  which  he  mouthed 
love's  language,  and  complained  of  lover's  pangs  ;  and  his 
eighs  and  tears,  for  such  indeed  he  had,  were  worthless,  and 
fell  without  a  meaning  at  her  feet.  But  he,  nothing  daunted 
by  the  mild  displays  of  her  dislike,  and  pushed  on  by  the  pride 
of  a  conceited  mind  to  carry  a  point  on  which  he  deemed  his 
manhood  staked  ;  and  also  at  length,  perhaps,  by  a  really 
awakened  affection  for  one  so  lovely,  did  not  hesitate  to  follow 


DON  MANXTEL   TORRILLO.  167 

her  to  America  ;  and  suffered  few  doubts  to  interfere  with  his 
anticipations  of  a  final  triumph. 

Don  Manuel  was  by  no  means  a  careless  spectator  of  the 
world.  He  had  deeply  studied  human  nature,  but  solely  for 
the  furtherance  of  the  great  objects  of  his  life.  He  knew  how 
to  inflame,  and  also  how  to  soothe  and  bend  the  minds  of  men 
to  his  purposes,  or  to  the  wishes  of  those  in  power  ;  but  the 
very  intentness  of  his  application  in  this  direction  had  unfitted 
him  to  judge  of  the  means  necessary  to  secure  the  happmess 
of  individuals.  He  looked  at  mankind  in  the  mass,  rather 
than  as  an  aggregation  of  separate  persons,  with  different 
tastes  and  dispositions,  and  requiring  very  dissimilar  things  in 
order  to  satisfy  their  wants,  and  secure  to  them  thactr -enjoy- 
ment of  life  which  is  the  right  of  every  human  bging.  He 
saw,  therefore,  nothing  but  a  fair  sky  in  the  prospect  of  his 
daughter's  union  with  Don  Ferdinand,  whose  wealth  and  rank 
were  equal  to  his  ambition  in  her  behalf,  and  secured  to  the 
chevalier  at  the  outset  a  favorable  position  on  the  political 
arena,  where  he  had  already  exhibited  a  capacity  which 
promised  an  easy  and  brilliant  success.  His  defects  Don 
Manuel  regarded  with  a  lenient  eye.  His  pride  and  arrogance 
he  considered  as  almost  necessarily  a  part  of  his  station,  and 
his  loose  morals  the  fault  of  the  age,  all  of  which  would  be 
worn  away,  or  at  least  materially  softened,  as  he  should  give 
his  attention  to  matters  of  more  moment,  and  become  inter- 
ested and  occupied  with  public  affairs.  He  saw  not  the  force 
of  Viola's  objections  in  the  clear  light  with  which  they  were 
impressed  on  her  mind  by  the  story  of  her  mother,  and  the 
disgust  and  mysterious  repulsion  of  her  own  feelings  ;  and  he 
perceived  no  good  reason  why  his  daughter  should  remain 
single,  or  forego  the  advantages  of  her  birth,  because  the 
nobility  were  licentious. 

But  however  it  might  be  in  the  end,  week  after  week 
passed  away,  and  the  suit  of  Don  Ferdinand  seemed  no  nearer 


168  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

a  successful  termination ;  when  one  of  those  sudden  domestic 
convulsions,  which  for  centuries  have  been  the  habit  of  Spain, 
occurred,  and  Don  Manuel  was  numbered  among  the  pro- 
scribed. He  was  privately  notified  of  his  danger,  in  season 
to  avoid  personal  harm ;  and  knowing  the  slight  avail  of  in- 
nocence, or  private  worth,  or  public  services,  in  the  political 
wars  of  his  country,  he  hesitated  not  to  secure  his  safety  by 
a  precipitate  flight.  He  exerted  all  his  powers  of  persuasion 
on  his  unhappy  daughter  to  prevent  her  from  needlessly  in- 
volving herself  in  his  ruin,  and,  indeed,  as  a  last  resort,  laid 
his  paternal  commands  on  her  to  suffer  the  nuptial  ceremony 
to  be  performed,  and  return  to  her  native  land  under  the  pro- 
tection of  a  husband,  and  be  happy ;  but  he  lost  his  sternness 
of  purpose  when  he  felt  the  warm  tear  of  Viola  on  his  cheek, 
as  she  hung  upon  his  neck  and  declared,  that  nothing  on 
earth,  now  that  her  father  was  an  exile,  should  separate  her 
from  him.  Don  Manuel  gave  way,  and  the  cold,  calculating 
Ferdinand,  touched  for  the  moment  with  this  display  of  filial 
affection,  gallantly  affirmed  that  he  would  follow  her  to  the  end 
of  the  world,  to  prove  his  devotion  to  the  charms  of  her  person 
and  the  sentiments  of  her  heart. 

Viola,  when  she  understood  his  determination  to  accompany 
them  in  their  flight,  begged  of  him  to  relinquish  the  idea,  if 
the  supposition  that  she  would  change  in  her  sentiments 
toward  him  was  in  any  manner  connected  with  the  design  ; 
and  even  Don  Manuel  seconded  her  efforts  ;  but  the  chevalier 
had  caught  a  portion  of  Viola's  ardor,  and  feeling  for  the  time 
emotions  to  which  he  was  in  general  a  stranger,  resolutely 
persisted. 

It  was  no  time  for  indecision  or  delay,  and  within  a  few 
hours  after  the  first  intimation  of  danger,  the  three,  with  a 
competent  body  of  domestics,  were  on  shipboard,  bound  for 
the  British  Colonies  of  North  America. 

Don  Ferdinand  now  became  less  obtrusive  in  his  attentions. 


DON  MANUEL  TOBRILLO.  169 


He  even  privately  absolved  the  Lady  Viola  from  the  engage- 
ment of  their  parents,  which  had  held  them  bound  to  each 
other  from  their  infancy,  and  professed  to  leave  her  free  to  ac- 
cept or  reject  his  suit  at  pleasure.  Meanwhile  he  exerted 
himself  to  dissipate  the  gloom  which  hung  heavily  over  her 
father,  and  strove  in  a  variety  of  ways,  by  words  of  sympathy, 
by  reading  and  conversation,  to  enliven  and  cheer  him.  Don 
Manuel  considered  himself  greatly  obliged  by  the  voluntary 
sacrifices  and  attentions  of  the  chevalier ;  and  Viola,  as  she 
beheld  cheerfulness  restored  to  her  father,  felt  grateful  and 
kindlier  toward  him,  and  long  before  their  tedious  voyage  was 
ended,  by  the  disastrous  wreck  of  the  galleon,  she  had  thrown 
off  much  of  the  reserve  and  coldness  of  her  former  deportment, 
and  had  accustomed  herself  to  receive  and  treat  him  with  the 
courtesy  and  familiarity  due  to  a  friend. 

During  their  stay  in  New  York  the  conduct  of  Don  Fer- 
dinand varied  as  circumstances,  or  rather  the  horizon  of  his 
expectations,  seemed  to  change.  He  early  became  jealous  of 
Charles  Warwick  and  suspicious  of  Viola  ;  but  the  obligations 
under  which  he  lay  to  the  young  American  operated  as  a 
powerful  restraint  on  his  actions.  He  exhibited  his  feelings 
in  his  petulance  ;  and  though  he  w^as  wise  enough  not  to  ruin 
his  cause  by  any  open  act  of  positive  ingratitude,  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  attempt  the  removal  of  his  rival  from  his  path  by 
the  secret  knife  of  the  assassin ;  from  which,  as  would  seem, 
Warwick  was  saved  by  a  mere  accident.  When  at  length  the 
Spaniards  were  about  to  leave  that  city,  the  discouraged  and 
exasperated  suitor  again  appealed  to  parental  authority  to  sus- 
tain him,  and  Don  Manuel  himself  thought  that  it  was  indeed 
time  that  Ferdinand  should  receive  his  reward ;  yet.  after  a 
severe  struggle,  Viola  again  prevailed,  again  obtained  delay, 
if  not  exemption.  Under  these  circumstances  there  was  one 
vivid  consolation  remaining  to  Don  Ferdinand :  Viola  was  at 
last  to  be  separated  from  the  man  who,  his  heart  told  him,  in  the 

8 


170  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

space  of  a  few  weeks,  without  the  prestige  of  wealth  or  rank, 
had  awakened  faculties  of  her  soul  which  he,  by  many  months 
of  obsequious  attentions  and  sacrifices,  had  been  unable  to 
reach;  and  he  had  already  arrived  at  that  elevated  point  in  the 
history  of  his  affection,  that  he  preferred  to  see  the  object  of 
it  miserable,  if  he  could  not  prevail  on  her  to  make  him 
happy. 


WABWICE   AGAIN.     HE    TAKES  A  BOMANTIC    RESOLUTION,   AND    FEBFORMS 
TRYING  ACT  OF  BROTHERLY  LOVE. 


"  0  fortune,  fortune  I  all  men  call  thee  fickle." 

WE  left  Charles  Warwick,  it  will  be  recollected,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson,  at  the  period  of  his  separation 
from  the  Spanish  party,  and  immediately  after  his  very  un- 
satisfactory interview  with  Don  Manuel  Torrillo.  Yielding, 
for  the  time,  to  the  dark  clouds  which  overshadowed  him,  and 
the  evil  influences  which  surrounded  him,  he  deemed  all  lost ; 
and  careless  alike  of  the  present  and  the  future,  urged  his 
headlong  way  into  the  depths  of  the  forest,  whithersoever  his 
aimless  steps  chanced  to  carry  him.  At  length,  exhausted  in 
mind  and  body,  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  and  gave  him- 
self wholly  to  his  feelings.  He  did  not  weep,  for  he  was  not 
one  of  the  weeping  sort;  indeed,  he  hardly  thought  any 
longer — ^he  had  exhausted  thought;  but  he  felt;  and  hopeless 
misery  and  despair  were  in  his  heart  and  brain,  and  stamped 
upon  his  features.  '  Motionless  as  the  trees  that  grew  around 
him  he  remained  for  hours,  but  at  last  his  eyes  gradually  as- 
sumed new  fire.  He  arose  and  shook  his  limbs,  which  once 
more  seemed  full  of  vigor,  looked  at  the  sun,  which  was 
already  waning  in  the  west,  and  again  started  forward,  but 
now  with  nerve  and  object  in  every  motion. 

The  operations  of  mind  which  led  to  this  change  in  War- 
wick were  by  no  means  unnatural.     Of  an  ardent,  hopeful 


172  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 


temperament,  despair  could  not  long  hold  him  down,  and 
while  he  lay  inactive  on  the  leaves,  if  he  could  no  longer  rea- 
son, he  could  dream.  Forms  of  what  might  lie  hidden  in  the 
future — each  form  a  picture — like  the  elaborate  scenes  of  a 
painter,  passed  in  succession  before  his  mental  eye,  and 
among  them  ultimately  he  perceived  the  shape  he  sought. 
From  this  point  reason  resumed  its  sway;  and  though  no 
vista,  glowing  with  sunshine,  in  which  imagination  could  revel 
with  delight,  presented  itself  before  him,  and  invited  him  to 
enter,  still  his  consciousness  had  shown  him  a  way,  re- 
flection had  confirmed  it,  and  he  determined  not  to  yield  his 
golden  hopes  of  life  without  a  further  desperate  and  final 
struggle. 

He  resolved,  therefore,  not  to  lose  sight  of  his  Spanish 
friends,  but  to  follow  them  in  their  inexplicable  journey.  Nor, 
in  coming  to  this  conclusion,  were  his  motives  altogether 
selfish.  He  believed  that  they  were  ignorantly  running  into 
danger,  that  the  course  they  were  pursuing  was,  as  it  were, 
inviting  their  own  destruction ;  and,  irrespective  of  his  per- 
sonal aspirations,  even  though  it  were  certain  that  his  own 
faint  hopes  were  to  be  utterly  blasted,  he  could  not  find  it  in 
his  heart  to  relinquish  the  Lady  Viola  and  her  father  to  their 
impending  fate,  without  an  effort  to  save  them. 

Accordingly,  with  much  diligence,  the  young  soldier  thread- 
ed the  mazes  of  the  wood,  until  he  struck  upon  their  trail ; 
and  pressing  onward,  now  with  scarcely  a  perception  of  fatigue, 
ere  nightfall  he  was  rewarded  with  a  sight  of  the  party  itself, 
already  come  to  a  halt,  and  preparing  a  lodgment  for  the 
night.  Satisfied  with  his  success,  and  familiar  with  forest 
life,  he  fell  back  a  short  distance,  stilled  the  cravings  of  hi? 
appetite  with  the  wild  berries  and  roots  which  he  was  able  to 
gather  from  the  earth  and  the  brambles,  and  found  comfortable 
quarters  for  the  night  in  the  low,  thick  branches  of  a  tree, 
where  he  slept  safely  and  undisturbed  until  morning. 


WHAT  BEFELL  WARWICK,  173 


Early  on  the  following  day,  by  taking  a  small  circuit,  he 
placed  himself  in  advance  of  the  Spaniards  ;  and  as  they  pro- 
ceeded very  much  at  their  leisure,  he  had  no  difficulty,  at  any 
time,  in  passing  entirely  around  them,  and  thus  ascertaining 
that  their  pathway  was  unobstructed.  It  was  at  the  close  of 
this  day,  as  the  Spaniards  h^d  halted  for  the  night,  that  his 
restless  feelings,  and  the  desire  to  look  into  the  internal 
arrangements  of  their  camp,  in  which  desire  the  wish  to  be- 
hold the  Lady  Viola  again,  formed  doubtless  a  prominent  ele- 
ment, induced  him  to  approach  so  closely  that  he  ^Tas  dis- 
covered by  Ruby  O'Brady.  He  did  not  wait,  in  his  retreat, 
for  her  to  satisfy  herself  of  his  identity ;  and  he  resolved  that 
the  occurrence  should  operate  as  a  salutary  caution  for  the 
future. 

The  course  which  the  party  were  pursuing,  pushing  as 
they  were  toward  the  very  center  of  the  confederacy  of  the 
Six  Nations,  was  to  him  more  and  more  a  subject  of  surprise 
and  apprehension.  In  vain  he  hoped  each  morning,  as  they 
struck  their  tents,  that  they  might  diverge  to  the  right,  a 
change  necessary  in  order  to  conduct  them  to  the  point,  as 
they  had  given  out,  of  their  destination,  and  which  would 
keep  them  nearer  the  white  settlements,  and  consequently 
more  within  the  reach  of  succor  in  case  of  need.  But  day 
after  day  they  kept  on,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  without  a  thought 
of  the  future,  and  careless  alike  of  their  own  safety  or  de- 
struction. 

As  they  approached  the  valleys  of  the  larger  streams,  which, 
as  Warwick  well  knew,  contained  several  Indian  villages,  and 
were  favorite  hunting-grounds  with  the  tribes  whose  castles 
or  centers  were  farther  north,  he  proceeded  in  advance,  and 
throwing  himself  fearlessly  among  the  savages,  became  a 
sort  of  self-constituted  envoy  in  behalf  of  his  Spanish  friends. 
Able  as  he  was  to  make  himself  understood  by  them  in  their 
own  tongue,  and  wearing  the  guise  of  peace,  and  boldly  con- 


174     ^  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 


fiding  his  own  safety  to  their  hands,  their  suspicious  natures 
were  quieted,  and  they  received  him  as  a  friend.  Especially 
was  he  fortunate  in  falling  in  with  Rollingbow,  a  chief  of  the 
Onondagas,  whom  he  had  seen  the  season  before  at  Albany, 
and  who  now  cordially  invited  him  to  his  lodge. 

He  found  Rollingbow  at  the  ^lead  of  a  large  hunting  party 
of  hi-s  tribe,  whose  field  of  operation  was  at  present  around 
the  genial  waters  of  the  Delaware  and  Susquehanna.  Their 
camp  or  village  occupied  a  pleasant  valley,  shut  in  by  high 
hills,  and  through  which  coursed  a  pure  and  gentle  stream. 
It  was  but  a  temporary  affair,  and  still  had  been  laid  out  with 
considerable  attention  to  comfort  and  regularity.  Most  of  the 
lodges  were  mere  wigwams,  constructed  of  poles  and  bark, 
but  some  there  were  of  a  more  pretending  and  substantial 
character,  built  of  logs  and  clay,  after  the  pattern  of  the 
cabins  of  the  white  settlements. 

Attached  rather  to  the  English  than  the  French  interest, 
and  having  known  Warwick  as  an  English  officer  and  an 
agent  of  the  British  Colonies,  the  Onondaga  deemed  this  a 
proper  occasion  on  which  to  manifest  his  sentiments,  and 
give  strength  to  his  own  views  among  his  people.  He  felt 
every  disposition,  therefore,  to  treat  his  guest  with  marked 
consideration.  To  this,  however,  there  was  one  drawback. 
The  near  approach  of  a  large  body  of  armed  men,  who  were 
neither  French  nor  English,  and  whose  object  was  vailed  in 
profound  secrecy,  had  filled  the  whole  region  with  alarm.  In 
these  strangers  Captain  Warwick  acknowledged  a  deep  in- 
terest. Rollingbow,  however,  did  not  hesitate,  at  the  request 
of  the  American,  to  summon  at  once  the  chief  men  of  the 
vicinity,  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

Warwick  took  it  upon  him  to  assure  the  council  of  grave 
chiefs  and  warriors  who  had  been  deemed  worthy  to  assem- 
ble on  the  occasion,  of  the  peaceable  disposition  of  the  Span- 
ish party.     He  informed  them  how  those  foreigners  had  been 


WHAT  BEFELL   WARWICK.  175 


shipwrecked,  and  cast  upon  the  hospitality  of  the  city  of  New 
York  :  that  they  had  there  been  treated  with  great  kindness 
and  attention  :  that  finding  no  vessel  in  readiness  to  take  them 
back  to  their  own  country,  they  were  now  on  their  way  to 
the  French  Colonies  of  the  north,  in  the  hope  there  to  meet 
with  a  better  success :  that  relying  on  the  well-known  mag- 
nanimity of  the  Six  Nations,  they  had  chosen  a  route  through 
the  territories  of  the  Confederacy :  that  for  all  supplies  they 
might  need,  they  were  willing  to  pay:  that  they  came  as 
friends,  and  desired  to  depart  as  friends :  and  that  if  unob- 
structed in  their  journey,  a  few  days  only  would  witness  their 
final  departure  beyond  the  Great  Lakes. 

This  explanation  seemed  satisfactory  to  the  council.  They 
adjourned  in  good  spirits,  with  warm  expressions  of  regard 
for  their  American  friend,  each  one  shaking  him  several  times 
over  by  the  hand  ;  and  Rollingbow  determined  to  get  up  a 
feast,  on  the  morrow,  in  his  honor.  The  important  person- 
ages present  were  accordingly  at  once  invited,  and  separated 
from  each  other  and  retired  to  their  several  homes,  in  great 
good  humor. 

With  the  succeeding  day  came  the  Warwick  dinner.  The 
place  selected  was  the  shade  of  an  embowering  willow ;  the 
table,  the  ground ;  and  the  cloth,  the  fragrant  and  unpolluted 
gTass.  Here  were  served  up  in  native  earthen  and  wooden 
bowls,  with  rude  ceremony,  and  seasoned  with  hospitable 
good-will,  the  choicest  dishes  known  to  their  barbarian  cook- 
ery. The  principal  courses  consisted  of  boiled  venison,  and 
cakes  made  of  the  maize  or  Indian  corn ;  and  the  delicious 
succotash,  composed  of  bear's  meat,  boiled  with  green  corn 
and  beans.  The  whortleberry,  gathered  fresh  from  the  hills, 
with  the  crimson  fruit  of  the  wintergreen,  formed  the  dessert; 
and  it  is  certain  that  less  savory  viands  have  often  been  served 
at  festivals  of  much  greater  pretension.  All  joined  in  doing 
honor  to  their  guest.     They  danced  before  him,  and  sung 


176  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

songs  for  his  amusement.  These  were,  in  general,  extem- 
pore stories  of  the  war  and  the  hunt,  in  which  each  one  was 
the  hero  of  his  own  narration,  and  gave  himself  up  without 
restraint  to  garrulity  and  self-glorification.  True,  with  all 
this  was  still  preserved  a  sort  of  gravity  proper  to  the  Indian 
character,  but  this  only  gave  the  greater  zest  to  the  tale,  the 
feathered  jest,  and  the  sonorous  laugh. 

But  while  these  festivities  were  still  at  their  height,  the 
sounds  of  revelry  suddenly  ceased.  The  singers  became 
dumb,  and  the  dancers  stood  still.  A  runner  came  in  with 
the  intelligence  that  the  friendly  relations  between  them  and 
the  Spaniards  were  already  broken  ;  the  blood  of  a  native  had 
't)een  spilled,  and  the  offending  white  was  a  prisoner. 

From  the  vivid  description  of  the  scout,  Warwick  was  at 
no  loss  to  conclude  that  the  captive  was  his  particular  friend, 
Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino ;  and  it  can  not  be  denied  that  the 
first  wave  of  the  sensation  which  followed,  was  mingled  with 
a  bitter  joy.  He  did  not,  however,  sufier  the  unworthy  feel- 
ing to  find  even  a  temporary  lodgment  in  his  breast.  He 
cast  it  from  him  as  beneath  him  and  beneath  humanity.  His 
second  thought  was  magnanimous  and  worthy  of  himself ;  and 
not  a  moment  did  he  hesitate  to  act  upon  it.  He  inquired 
particularly  into  the  circumstances  of  the  affair,  and  perceived 
at  once,  and  represented  to  the  savages,  that  the  unfortunate 
rencounter  had  probably  originated  in  misapprehension,  and 
not  in  design.  In  the  suddenness  of  the  transaction,  and  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  during  the  brief  interval  while  the 
Spaniard  was  in  chase  of  the  deer,  it  doubtless  did  not  occui 
to  him  that  the  animal  might  be  one  which  the  Indian  hunters 
were  pursuing ;  and  instead  of  regarding  himself  as  an  intru- 
der, he  very  naturally  looked  on  the  native  as  such,  who  had 
stepped  between  him  and  his  game,  just  at  the  instant  he  was 
coming  up  with  it.  Warwick  admitted  that  the  young  Span- 
iard was  of  a  hasty  temper,  but  added  that  the  old  chief  who 


WHAT  BEFELL    WARWICK.  177 

headed  the  party  regarded  him  as  a  son,  and  would  deeply 
grieve  should  any  ill  befall  him. 

But  it  is  needless  to  enumerate  all  the  arguments  and  efforts 
of  the  generous  American  in  behalf  of  his  ungenerous  rival, 
inasmuch  as  the  result  is  already  before  the  reader.  Suffice 
it  that  with  much  difficulty  he  succeeded  in  allaying  the  irri- 
tated feelings  of  the  savages  so  far  that  they  consented  to 
restore  their  captive  to  liberty  unharmed.  Accordingly,  after 
a  confinement  of  a  single  night,  Don  Ferdinand,  much  to  his 
own  surprise  and  joy,  was  informed  that  he  was  free,  and 
furnished  with  a  guide  to  conduct  him  back  to  his  friends. 
He  departed  without  suspecting  the  agency  which  Warwick 
had  had  in  his  liberation,  and  indeed  without  a  thought  that 
his  dreaded  rival  could  be  anywhere  in  that  portion  of  the 
world. 

8* 


A  EEVERSB.      THE  "WATCH-FrRB  AND  THE  WAB-DANCB.       THE  INDIAN  "WIDOTT, 


"  Aye,  my  own  boy  !  thy  aire 
Is  with  the  sleepers  of  the  valley  cast. 


ALTHOUGH  the  savages  had  consented  to  forego  their 
revenge,  and  had  yielded  up  their  prisoner  at  his  solicit- 
ation, Warwick  was  aware,  from  several  circumstances  that 
came  within  the  range  of  his  notice,  that  their  irritation  was 
not  wholly  allayed.  They  seemed  moody  and  less  social  than 
usual,  and  he  could  not  but  observe  that  throughout  the  two 
succeeding  days  there  was  a  gradual  accession  to  their  num- 
bers. While  turning  these  facts  in  his  mind,  with  some  anxiety, 
his  ears  were  saluted  with  sounds  of  grief  in  the  distance, 
which  were  successively  caught  up  and  echoed  by  others 
nearer;  and  soon  the  village  was  filled  with  the  cries  and 
lamentations  of  its  whole  female  and  juvenile  population.  Be- 
fore he  could  ascertain  the  cause  of  this  outbreak  of  sorrow, 
he  found  himself  surrounded  by  a  motley  assemblage  of  wo- 
men and  children,  who  covered  him  with  reproaches,  and 
amid  incessant  shrieks  and  wails,  seemed  with  difficulty  to 
withhold  themselves  from  doing  violence  to  his  person.  While 
with  some  effort  and  apprehension  he  was  keeping  them  at 
bay,  endeavoring  at  the  same  time  to  calm  the  tumult,  that  he 
might  learn  the  meaning  of  what  he  saw,  several  warriors 
came  up,  and  with  little  ceremony  dispersed  the  unsoldier-like 
rabble.  Having  done  this,  two  of  their  number  seized  him 
firmly  behind,  while  others  presented  their  weapons  in 'such  a 

■9 


^ 


WAR-DANCE— SONG  OF  TEE  INDIAN  WIDOW.  179 

manner  as  effectually  to  quell  resistance,  and  led  him  away  to 
the  same  tenement  which  ha(i  not  long  before  been  the  prison 
of  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino. 

Sudden  as  was  this  reverse,  Warwick  was  discreet  enough 
not  to  sacrifice  himself  by  a  fruitless  resistance.  His  seizure 
was  effected  without  unnecessary  harshness,  a  rare  virtue  among 
exasperated  savages,  and  all  the  more  a  circumstance  of  good 
omen.  From  his  captors  he  could  get  no  explanation.  They 
were  evidently  acting  under  orders,  and  performed  the  business 
of  his  incarceration  as  mutely  and  dispassionately  as  though 
they  had  been  pieces  of  locomotive  mechanism.  As  they 
were  about  to  depart  and  leave  him  to  the  solitude  of  his  cell, 
he  requested  them  at  least  to  do  him  the  favor  to  bear  a  mes- 
sage from  him  to  their  chief.  He  desired  that  Rollingbow 
would  inform  him  at  once  of  what  he  was  accused,  that  he 
might  know  what  cause  could  induce  an  Onondaga  chief  to 
violate  the  hospitality  he  had  once  proffered  to  a  stranger. 

Something  like  an  hour  had  passed  away,  and,  meanwhile, 
the  tumult  without  had  very  considerably  subsided,  giving 
place  to  moans  and  the  softer  sounds  of  grief,  when  Rolling- 
bow  came.  The  chief  was  grave  and  stern,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  comported  well  with  the  native  dignity 
of  his  deportment,  as  he  entered  the  loflge  and  addressed  his 
prisoner. 

"  Helmo,  the  guide  of  the  Spaniard,  is  dead,"  said  he, 
"  slaughtered  like  a  beast  on  the  hills.  This  may  be  no  news 
to  Captain  Warwick,  but  it  was  news  indeed  to  us.  The  body 
has  just  been  brought  in,  stained  and  disfigured  with  its  own 
blood.  The  sounds  of  sorrow  you  have  heard,  and  the  violence 
you  have  witnessed,  indicate  but  in  part  the  grief  and  indigna- 
tion of  my  people." 

"  And  can  you  suppose  for  a  moment,  Rollingbow,"  said 
Warwick,  in  astonishment  and  alarm  that  I  have  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  this  murder ''" 


1  80  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

"  How  should  I  know,  Captain  Warwick  ?"  returned  the  In- 
dian. "  You  asked  the  life  of  your  friend,  and  we  gave  it,  and 
sent  Helmo  to  conduct  him  through  the  wood  to  his  companions. 
Helmo  is  slain.  I  had  thought  the  American  brave  a  friend 
to  Rollingbow  and  his  people.  I  gave  you  to  eat  of  my  bread, 
to  drink  of  my  water,  to  lie  down  by  my  fire.  I  treated  you 
like  a  brother." 

Warwick  approached  the  offended  savage,  and  laid  his  hand 
on  his  arm.  "  I  am  innocent,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "  and  youi 
suspicions  wrong  me.  I  declare  it  in  the  presence  of  the  white 
man's  God,  and  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  Indians.  I  am  inno- 
cent !" 

The  act,  and  the  heartiness  with  which  these  words  were 
uttered,  evidently  made  a  favorable  impression  on  the  chief. 
He  then  informed  Warwick  that  the  family  of  the  guide  having 
become  anxious  on  account  of  his  absence,  he  had  sent  out 
men  who  had  followed  the  trail  to  the  near  vicinity  of  the 
Spanish  camp,  where  they  had  found  his  lifeless  body.  The 
reader  will  have  no  difficulty  in  concluding  that  this  was  the 
same  body  which  had  been  discovered  by  Johnson  ;  and  the 
situation  in  which  he  left  it,  and  the  subsequent  conduct  of 
Ihe  Indians  on  finding  it,  will  at  once  recur  to  his  recollection. 

But  Warwick  could  not  readily  bring  himself  to  the  belief 
that  the  Indian  had  come  to  his  end  by  the  hand  of  Don  Fer- 
dinand, a  conclusion  at  which  Rollingbow  and  his  people  had 
at  once  arrived.  He  knew  the  Spaniard  to  be  capable  of 
almost  any  act  of  baseness,  but  that  he  would  raise  his  arm 
against  the  life  of  another,  who,  at  the  very  moment,  was  per- 
forming toward  him  an  important  act  of  kindness,  exceeded  all 
his  conceptions  of  depravity.  The  American  forgot  to  what 
desperate  revenges  wounded  pride  sometimes  decoys  its  vic- 
tims. Nevertheless  he  found  it  extremely  difficult  to  explain 
the  transaction,  even  to  himself,  in  any  way  consistent  with 
Don  Ferdinand's  innocence ;  and  +his  being  the  case,  how  could 


WAR-DANCE— SONO   OF  THE  INDIAN  WIDOW.  181 


he  hope  to  remove  the  reasonable  and  settled  conviction  of  the 
savages  ?  He  saw  at  a  glance  the  great  difficulties  of  his  own 
situation,  and  the  perils  threatening  Don  Manuel  and  his  party, 
and  felt,  in  its  full  force,  the  necessity  on  his  part  of  prompt 
and  prudent  action. 

"  Things  look  very  dark,  it  is  true,  Rollingbow,"  said  he ; 
"  but  is  it  not  possible  that  Helmo  fell  in  some  broil,  after  part- 
ing with  the  Spaniard  ?" 

"  His  wound  is  deep,"  returned  the  chief;  "  made  with  the 
long  knife  of  the  white  man." 

"  But  if  Don  Ferdinand  had  killed  him,  would  he  have  cov- 
ered his  body,  and  put  up  a  signal  over  the 'spot,  so  that  his 
friends  might  find  him  ?" 

"  A  Mohawk  did  that,"  replied  Rollingbow.  "  A  Mohawk, 
who  could  not  stay  to  tell  us,  found  Helmo  naked  in  the  forest, 
and  covered  him  away  from  the  wolves." 

"  Rollingbow !  Rollingbow !"  said  Warwick,  in  painful  mo- 
mentary excitement,  "  I  can  not  explain  this  terrible  catastrophe. 
It  is  a  horrible  mystery.  But  believe  me,  no  Christian  man 
could  commit  such  a  dastardly  act." 

"  And  would  an  Indian  do  it  ?"  said  Rollingbow,  proudly, 
and  stretching  his  stra.ight  form  to  its  utmost  altitude. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Warwick,  quickly.  "  There  are  bad  In- 
dians, but  there  is  no  Indian  vile  enough  to  break  his  faith  and 
kill  his  friend.  For  years  I  lived  with  your  people,  and  suf- 
fered much  at  the  hands  of  some  of  them ;  but  never  did  I 
witness  among  them  a  deed  of  so  black  a  dye  as  that  of  which 
you  seem  disposed  to  accuse  this  Spaniard,  and  never,  I  must 
add,  have  I  witnessed  before  to-day  a  breach  of  hospitality  in 
a  chief." 

The  Indian  smiled  faintly  as  he  replied : 

"  These  logs  will  save  the  American  from  the  tomahawks 
of  my  braves,  and  the  taunts  and  blows  of  my  women  and 
young  men.     When  the  moon  palos  in  the  morning,  good  liian 


182  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE   RED  MEN. 

or  bad  man,  he  can  go.  The  door  of  his  prison  shall  be  set 
open.  He  is  strong.  Let  him  run'  with  the  fleetness  of  the 
deer  till  he  finds  himself  safe  in  the  great  town  with  his  people. 
Rollingbow  breaks  not  his  faith  with  the  stranger." 

Warwick  seized  the  noble  savage  by  the  hand,  and  pressed 
it  to  his  heart. 

"  Though  there  are  strong  reasons,"  said  he,  "  why  I  would 
not  at  present  have  any  intercourse  with  these  Spaniards,  I 
will  go  to  them  and  unravel  this  mystery.  If  they  have  wronged 
you,  they  must  make  you  reparation." 

The  Indian  laughed  again,  but  this  time  it  was  in  derision. 
He  elevated  his  tall  and  commanding  person,  and  swung  his 
arm  above  his  head  with  an  emphatic  gesture,  as  he  replied  : 

"  Shall  we  beg  of  the  pale  faces  a  string  of  beads  or  a  blan- 
ket, for  the  life  of  an  Onondaga  ?  The  spirits  of  our  fathers, 
the  ghost  of  the  dead  Helmo,  would  come  among  us  and  point 
their  fingers  at  us  in  scorn.     The  Spaniards  shall  die !" 

Thus  saying,  Rollingbow,  like  a  proper  monarch  of  the 
wilds,  strode  out  of  the  lodge. 

The  tenement  in  which  Warwick  was  confined  was  of  loose 
construction,  but  of  considerable  strength.  There  were  aper- 
tures here  and  there  between  the  logs,  which,  in  the  absence 
of  windows,  served  to  let  in  a  modicum  of  light,  and  through 
which  a  partial  survey  of  what  was  occurring  without  might  be 
obtained.  A  rude  door  of  split  wood  closed  the  entrance,  and 
before  it  was  stationed  a  solitary  saitege  as  a  guard.  In  no 
very  pleasurable  frame  of  mind,  though  the  prospect  of  liberty 
at  no  very  distant  period  was  before  him,  our  hero  placed  him- 
self at  the  wall,  to  observe,  as  best  he  might,  the  temper  and 
movements  of  the  Indians. 

Night  had  but  just  conquered,  and  closed  her  blue  vaulted 
windows  against  the  day,  when  he  perceived  from  his  watch 
a  bright  flame  shoot  up  from  an  open  plain  in  the  midst  of  the 
village,  which  rapidly  increased  in  magnitude,  until  it  became 


WAB-DANOEr^SOirO  OF  THE  INDIAN  WIDOW.  183 

an  immense  bonfire,  and  the  hills  around  and  the  heavens  were 
broadly  illuminated  by  its  glare.  About  this  pyramid  of  fire  he 
could  plairtly  see  the  gathering  of  a  body  of  warriors,  painted 
in  the  most  hideous  manner,  and  decked  in  their  most  showy 
trappings  ;  and  soon  he  becamed  horrified  as  the  well-known 
war-whoop  broke  on  his  ear,  and  he  saw  them  engage  in  the 
frightful  pageant  of  the  war-dance.  Only  a  portion  of  the  actors 
were  visible  to  him  at  once.  They  passed  before  him  in  seg- 
ments, as  in  their  mazy  evolutions  they  circled  around  the 
fire  ;  and  their  forms,  in  relief  against  the  glowing  pyre,  their 
flashing  weapons,  and  all  the  minutiae  of  their  bedeckments 
and  movements,  were  visible,  and  defined  with  a  terrible  dis- 
tinctness to  his  eye.  They  leaped,  they  whirled,  they  mixed 
together  pell-mell,  cutting  and  slashing  with  their  tomahawks 
and  knives  ;  they  grappled — the  infuriated  warrior  would  ap- 
pear to  single  out  his  foe,  would  leap  upon  him,,and  seem  to 
sheathe  his  weapon  in  his  heart,  and  tear  his  scalp  from  his 
head — while  the  air  was  rent  with  their  yells  ;  the  fearful  cry 
to  the  onset  mingling  and  dying  away  in  the  triumphal  shouts 
of  an  imaginary  victory. 

The  picture  was  complete  ;  not  only  a  graphic  representa- 
tion of  an  Indian  battle,  but,  as  Warwick  well  knew,  was  in- 
tended to  shadow  forth  scenes  in  which  the  actors  themselves 
expected  soon  to  be  engaged.  The  danger  to  Don  Manuel 
and  his  party,  he  perceived,  was  not  only  imminent,  but  im- 
mediate ;  and  with  a  restless  anxiety  he  turned  again  to  exam- 
ine the  strength  and  fastenings  of  his  prison  door.  The  ath- 
letic savage  who  had  at  first  been  placed  over  him  as  a  guard, 
he  discovered,  was  no  longer  there.  His  place  was  filled  by 
an  aged  Indian,  who  was  sitting  some  paces  away,  engrossed 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  exciting  pageant  without.  War- 
wick placed  his  shoulder  cautiously  against  the  door,  but  it 
resisted  his  efforts ;  and  then,  for  the  twentieth  time  perhaps, 
he  took  the  round  of  bis  cell,  in  the  hope  to  discover  some 


184  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

point  in  the  walls  weak  enough  to  justify  a  vigorous  assault. 
On  the  side  opposite  the  door,  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
low,  plaintive  sound  ;  and  looking  out  he  perceived  an  Indian 
woman,  whom  he  at  once  recognized  as  the  wife  of  the  mur- 
dered brave,  but  few  paces  from  him  seated  on  a  stone.  She 
had  a  babe  in  her  arms  ;  and  partly,  as  it  seemed,  as  a  lullaby 
to  her  child,  and  partly  to  give  vent  to  her  feelings,  she  sung. 
Warwick  spoke  to  her,  but  though  she  must  have  heard  him, 
she  made  him  no  reply.  She  looked  alternately  on  her  babe 
and  upon  the  sky,  in  apparent  abstraction  from  every  thing 
that  was  passing  around  her ;  while  with  a  voice  of  soft  mel- 
ody she  murmured  her  passing  thoughts  in  a  most  melancholy 
strain. 

"  He  is  dead,"  said  she  ;  "  Helmo  is  dead — ^the  warrior  of 
fifty  battles  is  no  more. 

"  He  died  not  as  the  brave  should  die,  in  the  midst  of  vic- 
tory and  the  groans  of  his  slain  ; 

"  Or  in  defeat,  when  the  ghosts  of  his  enemies  go  before 
him  to  the  land  of  shades. 

"  He  died  by  the  treacherous  hand  of  the  white  man,  who 
slew  him  like  a  d^,  when  he  needed  him  no  more. 

"  Helmo  is  gone  :  the  light  of  my  life,  the  sun  of  my  morn- 
ing and  my  noon. 

"  He  is  gone  :  and  this  bosom  where  his  head  rested  from 
toil  is  like  the  spring  that  is  dry. 

"  He  will  not  come  back  ;  I  shall  see  him  never,  till  I  meet 
him  in  the  land  of  shades. 

"  The  cabin  of  Helmo  is  cold  ;  there  is  no  smoke  above  it ; 
the  north  wind  whistles  through  its  walls. 

"  No  stranger  may  enter  within ;  it  hath  no  longer  meat, 
even  for  his  wife  and  son. 


WAR-DANCE— SONG   OF  TEE  INDIAN  WIDOW.  185 

"  The  arm  that  reared  it  is  broken  ;  his  blanket  hangs  on 
the  wall :  his  hounds  lie  silent  at  the  door ! 

"  His  arrows  will  bring  down  no  more  deer  ;  his  bear-skins 
are  given  to  the  moths. 

"  His  son  will  never  know  him  ;  he  will  call  on  his  name, 
and  ask  me  in  vain  for  his  father. 

"  Then  I  will  point  him  to  the  white  man,  and  teach  him  the 
revenge  of  a  warrior. 

"  His  young  hand  shall  grasp  the  weapon  of  his  sire  ;  he 
shall  drink  deep  of  thewatsr  of  their  hearts, 

"  My  curse  on  the  white  man  !  My  curse  on  the  pale  face 
that  slew  my  buck !     My  curse  on  his  race  ! 

"  Helmo  was  a  great  man  ;  he  was  a  mighty  brave  ;  in  the 
chase,  in  the  battle,  he  was  strong. 

"  In  the  surprise  he  was  subtile  as  a  fox  :  his  eye  was  the 
eye  of  a  snake. 

"  He  was  still  as  the  air  that  makes  no  noise ;  he  sprung 
on  his  foe  like  the  panther. 

"  Then  he  was  terrible  as  the  whirlwind  ;  his  voice  was  the 
voice  of  the  clouds ; 

"  The  blow  of  his  hatchet,  like  the  quick  lightning ;  the 
touch  of  his  knife,  death. 

"  But  in  his  lodge,  Helmo  was  gentle  as  a  fawn  ;  his  voice 
was  a  zephyr,  and  his  eyes  the  eyes  of  the  brown  dove." 

The  Indian  widow  ceased  singing,  and  Warwick  addressed 
her  again  ;  but  by  no  word  or  sign  did  she  manifest  that  she 
heard  him.  or  was  even  aware  of  his  vicinity.  Failing  thus 
to  arouse  her  attention,  he  commenced  a  low  chant  similar  to 
her  own.     The  burden  of  his  strain  was  as  follows : 

"  The  white  and  the  red  man  are  of  the  same  blood  ;  they 
are  the  handiwork  of  the  same  Great  Spirit. 


18G  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TBS  RED  MEK 

"  There  are  brave  men  and  good  among  both  ;  among  both 
are  some  treacherous  and  base. 

"  Then  curse  not  all  whites  ;  my  sisters,  pale  daughters  of 
the  east, 

*'  Would  gladly  comfort  the  dark  widow  in  her  grief, 

"  And  mingle  their  tears  with  hers,  till  they  fall  like  the 
dew-drops  of  morning. 

"  Oh,  curse  them  not ;  curse  not  their  brother  ;  and  mourn 
not  too  deeply  ; 

"  Trouble  comes  like  the  wind  to  all,  the  white  as  well  as 
the  red  men. 

"  But  his  children  the  Great  Spirit  loves ;  in  his  hand  he 
will  hold  and  preserve  them, 

"  There  is  grief  with  me  too  ;  I'm  a  bird  in  a  net ;  my 
crime  is  that  God  made  me  white. 

"  My  mother  has  tears  like  thine  ;  go,  tell  her  to  weep  for 
her  son  !" 

As  Warwick  concluded,  the  Indian  woman  arose  quickly, 
and  laying  her  pappoose,  bound  up  in  its  wicker-work  cover- 
ing, against  the  stone  on  which  she  had  been  sitting,  she 
passed  without  noise  to  the  door  of  his  prison,  and  softly  undid 
the  fastenings.  Stepping  within,  she  laid  her  hand  timidly  on 
his  shoulder,  and  said : 

"  The  door  is  open.  Go,  white  man !  You  could  not  have 
slain  the  father  of  my  boy.  Go,  lest  your  mother  or  your 
wife  or  your  sisters  weep  like  the  wife  of  Helmo.  Go,  that 
they  may  look  on  the  sky  and  see  it  bright ;  that  they  may 
taste  of  the  air  and  the  water,  and  find  them  sweet.  This  they 
will  do  when  he  that  they  love  is  with  them." 

Penetrated  with  gratitude  at  the  magnanimity  of  this  poor 
savage,  and  feeling  a  presentiment  that  under  a  state  of 
things  very  likely  to  occur  he  might  possibly  abuse  it,  for  a 
moment  he  hesitated  to  accept  his  freedom  at  her  hands.     But 


WAR'DANCE-SONQ   OF  THE  INDIAN    WIDOW.  lb? 


his  indecision  was  of  short  duration.  The  dangers  threaten- 
ing Don  Manuel,  and  the  form  of  another,  as  pure  and  as  full 
of  confiding  faith  as  the  dark  native  before  him,  exposed  to 
the  peril  of  death,  and  other  nameless  horrors,  rushed  on  his 
mind  so  vividly  as  to  overpower  every  other  consideration. 
He  uttered  his  thanks  to  his  deliverer  in  a  few  hasty  words  ; 
and  kissing  her  brown  hand,  as  he  bade  her  adieu,  passed  into  . 
the  open  air.  The  ancient  savage,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
guard  against  an  occurrence  of  this  nature,  was  but  too  hap- 
pily engrossed  with  objects  in  another  direction ;  the  sights 
and  sounds,  the  flashing  arms  and  notes  of  preparation,  of  his 
people.  For  nothing  else  had  he  eyes  or  ears  ;  and  War- 
wick, perceiving  his  abstraction,  aided  his  kind  friend  in 
closing  the  door  and  readjusting  its  fixtures  before  taking  his 
departure. 

Passing  hastily  to  the  rear  of  his  late  prison,  he  took  a  rapid 
survey  of  the  Indian  forces,  and  their  state  of  preparation  ; 
then,  keeping  within  the  shadow  of  the  building,  he  lost  no 
time  in  pushing  for  the  forest.  The  hurried  glance  he  had 
taken  was  sufficient  to  show  him  that  the  number  of  the  war- 
riors assembled  very  much  exceeded  the  entire  force  of  the 
Onondagas  ;  and  that,  having  finished  their  preliminary  rites, 
they  were  about  getting  under  way.  Well  aware  of  the  speed 
with  which,  ranged  in  single  file,  their  war-parties  thread  the 
pathless  woods,  independent  of  the  light  of  day,  he  felt  the 
necessity  of  dispatch  in  his  own  movements,  and  within  a 
A'ery  short  period  had  accomplished  such  a  distance  that  he 
ceased  to  hear  the  loudest  reverberations  of  the  war-whoop  from 
the  hills  ;  and  the  whole  of  the  startling  occurrences  of  the 
last  few  hours  would  at  once  have  become  food  for  memory 
alone,  had  it  not  been  that  in  the  east  were  still  perceptible 
a  cloud  of  accumulating  and  deepening  vapor,  and  a  red  glow 
upon  the  sky. 


Cl^autn  Sito^ittj-fjofttr, 


THE    ATTACK. 


*•  But  go  and  rouse  your  -warriorg,  for  If  rlrtt 

These  old  bewildered  eyes  could  guess,  by  stgna 
Of  strlp'd  and  starred  banners  ou  yon  height 

Of  eastern  cedars,  o'er  the  creek  of  pines, 
Some  fort  embattled  by  your  country  shines  : 

Deep  roais  the  Innavigable  gulf  below 
Its  squared  arch  and  palisaded  lines. 

Go  !  seek  the  light  its  war-like  beacons  show, 
While  I  in  ambush  wait  for  vengeance  and  the  foe.' 


THE  ground  covered  by  the  Spanish  camp,  as  we  have 
already  taken  occasion  to  observe,  had  been  selected  by 
an  experienced  eye.  It  was,  in  truth,  an  elevated  bluff  of  con- 
sider-'.ble  extent,  bounded  for  two  thirds  of  its  circumference 
by  the  Delaware  River  and  the  branch  which  there  united  with 
it,  dividing  and  forming  for  the  two  currents  high,  rocky,  and 
nearly  perpendicular  banks.  Along  the  edge  of  these  shores 
extended  the  line  of  palisades,  which,  crossing  the  continuous 
land  on  the  north,  from  stream  to  stream,  was  there  strength- 
ened by  a  mound  and  ditch.  From  this  b'reastwork,  which 
was  indeed  the  only  point  of  approach  to  the  fortification,  the 
ground  very  gradually  descended,  increasing  at  the  same  time 
in  width  as  the  course  of  the  two  rivers  diverged  from  each 
other ;  and  here,  for  some  rods,  the  sparse  trees  and  clumps 
of  laurel,  and  whatever  else  might  serve  as  a  shelter  to  an 
enemy,  had  been  cleared  away. 

It  was  now  an  hour  or  more  past  midnight,  and  the  fortress, 
save  the  drowsy  sentinels,  was  wrapped  in  profound  repose. 
The  moon  rode  high,  and  the  white  tents  of  the  Spaniards 


THE  ATTACK,  189 


sparkled  in  its  rays.  The  little  block-house  stood  in  their 
midst,  and  far  above  all  towered  some  two  or  three  dead  pines, 
which,  being  large  and  near  the  center  of  the  encampment,  it 
had  been  deemed  unnecessary  to  disturb.  These  were  the 
only  trees  remaining  on  what  could  prcperlybe  called  the 
bluff,  and  to  the  eye  all  else,  except  the  river  courses  and  the 
bald  brow  of  some  hill  in  the  distance,  presented  the  appear- 
ance of  an  interminable  wood.  A  thick  fog  lay  low  on  the 
bosom  of  the  rivers,  which,  with  its  leaden  shades  flashing  in 
the  moonlight,  looked  like  strata  of  variegated  marble.  There 
was  a  gentle  breeze  stirring;  and  as  the  fog  rapidly  increased 
in  volume  portions  of  it  were  borne  upon  the  land,  and  mixing 
with  the  trees  rolled  through  the  forest,  and  involved  the  en- 
campment in  its  hazy  folds,  till  the  moon  was  shut  out,  and 
every  thing  became  mingled  together  in  a  dim  and  uncertain 
light. 

At  this  period  a  single  Indian  advanced  a  few  paces  from 
the  woods  in  front  of  the  camp,  and  stretched  his  head  forward 
in  an  attitude  of  attention.  Satisfied,  to  appearance,  with  his 
observation,  he  withdrew  again  to  the  cover  of  the  trees,  and 
bearing  to  the  left,  a  short  distance  brought  him  to  the  shore 
of  the  lesser  river.  Noiselessly  he  let  himself  down  from 
point  to  point  of  the  craggy  bank,  until  he  found  a  precarious 
footing  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  water,  and  cautiously  pass- 
ing on  he  was  soon  abreast  of  the  eastern  line  of  the  palisades. 
Here  he  paused  for  a  moment;  but  discovering  nothing  to  oc- 
casion alarm,  with  much  toil  he  raised  himself  from  one  rocky 
projection  to  another,  until  he  nearly  reached  the  base  of  the 
fortification.  Pausing  again,  his  quick  eye  caught  the  outline 
of  a  man  almost  directly  above  him,  and  at  once  he  sunk  down 
against  the  rock,  motionless  as  though  he  were  a  part  of  it. 
The  lonesome  sentinel,  meanwhile,  unconscious  of  danger,  to 
relieve  the  tedium  of  his  watch,  and  perhaps  his  restless 
thoughts,  which  might  have  been  dragging  him  in  mind  to  his 


190  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

distant  home,  far  away  over  the  ocean,  murmured  rather  than 
sung  some  snatches  of  an  old  Moorish  song.  Soon,  however, 
he  ceased,  and  yawning,  cast  a  vacant  eye  above  ;  and  turn- 
ing partly  around  rested  himself  heavily  on  his  musket. 

The  obscurity  of  the  fog  was  still  partial,  but  increasing,  and 
the  savage  remained  stationary  for  some  minutes.  Shortly, 
however,  he  was  in  motion  again,  and  passing  on  horizontally 
for  a  few  paces,  he  drew  himself  up  to  a  level  with  the  pali- 
sades, when,  elevating  his  tall,  gaunt  person,  he  took  a  hasty 
survey,  so  far  as  his  sight  could  penetrate,  of  the  works  before 
him.  It  was  but  a  moment  that  he  trusted  himself  in  this  ex- 
posed position,  but  sinking  to  his  knees,  advanced  still  a  few 
feet  farther,  where,  gaining  his  legs  once  more,  he  extended 
his  head  boldly  above  the  pickets.  All  was  quiet.  The 
sentinels  on  either  side  of  him,  whose  forms  were  just  visible, 
though  awake  to  be  sure,  were  dull  and  dreamy  at  their  posts, 
and  evidently  unsuspicious  of  evil ;  and  the  wily  savage,  in- 
sinuating his  flexible  body  between  the  points,  slid  like  an  eel 
slowly  and  silently  over,  and  stood  among  the  tents  of  his 
enemies. 

Although  now  pretty  well  sheltered  from  the  hazard  of  de- 
tection, the  Indian  relaxed  nothing  of  his  vigilance.  Sinking 
on  his  belly,  he  glided  like  a  serpent  on  the  ground ;  now 
motionless,  as  some  sentry,  by  a  change  of  position  or  a  tap 
of  his  musket,  would  indicate  to  his  fellows  the  faithfulness 
of  his  watch ;  and  again,  on  the  move,  but  so  sluggishly  as  to 
deceive  any  one  who  was  not  near  enough  to  take  in  the  com- 
pass of  his  shape.  He  stopped  in  the  rear  of  a  tent  that  stood 
nearly  in  the  center  of  the  area,  conspicuous  from  its  size, 
and  which  was  in  fact  the  one  usually  occupied  by  the  prin- 
cipal personages  of  the  Spanish  party.  Listening  a  moment, 
with  the  knife  from  his  girdle  he  cut  the  cord  which  made 
fast  the  canvas  to  the  earth,  and  cautiously  inserted  his  head 
beneath  the  folds.     Nothing  gave  evidence  that  any  creature 


TEE  ATTACK.  191 


possessing  life  was  there,  except  the  hard  breathing  which 
frequently  accompanies  deep  sleep.  Satisfied  with  his  scru- 
tiny he  withdrew  his  head,  and  opening  a  small  clay  box, 
secured  in  a  case  of  willow  twigs,  which  he  bore  in  his  hand, 
he  blew  on  the  burning  coal  of  touch-wood  it  contained,  and 
inserting  a  little  bundle  of  matches  of  the  pitch-pine,  readily 
produced  a  flame.  He  applied  it  to  the  canvas  at  several 
points,  and  with  the  same  noiseless  precaution  with  which  he 
had  advanced,  retired  to  a  less  exposed  situation  in  the  rear  of 
the  block-house  to  await  the  result.  It  was  a  brief  space  be- 
fore the  flames  overcame  the  slight  moisture  of  the  cloth,  and 
gained  a  sufficient  headway  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
sentinels.  But  when,  as  soon  occurred,  they  shot  upward, 
and,  magnified  by  the  fog,  presented  the  appearance  of 
several  columns  of  phosphoric  light,  each  left  his  post  and 
hastened  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the  phenomenon. 

This  was  a  moment  awaited  by  the  savage  with  intense 
anxiety — the  very  pivot  on  which  turned  the  success  or  fail- 
ure of  his  plot.  He  stretched  his  long  neck  from  the  rear  of 
the  cabin,  where  he  lay  like  a  snake  in  his  coil,  and  beheld 
with  exultation  that  the  fire  had  already  communicated  to  the 
adjoining  tents,  and  doubted  not,  in  the  confusion  which  would 
ensue,  that  victory  would  be  easy.  But  at  that  instant  a  voice, 
loud  enough  to  awake  every  sleeper  of  the  camp,  broke  on  his 
ear:  "  Hoa  !  to  arms!  the  Indians  are  upon  you  !"  and  the  eye 
of  the  savage  caught  the  outline  of  a  man,  as  Charles  War- 
wick, having  scaled  the  trench  and  breastwork  on  the  north, 
notwithstanding  a  volley  of  balls  and  arrows  from  the  woods, 
alighted  unharmed  in  the  inclosure.  At  the  same  instant  the 
war-whoop  burst  from  the  forest,  and  was  answered  by  a  sound 
as  deep,  the  war-cry  of  Rollingbow  of  the  Onondagas,  in  the 
very  center  of  the  Spanish  camp. 

In  making  his  way  to  the  fortress  of  the  whites,  Warwick 
had  been  subjected  to  irritating  delays.     He  had  found  his 


192  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN, 

path  already  occupied  by  advanced  parties  of  the  Indians,  and 
had  been  obliged  to  pick  his  way  through  them  as  best  he 
might ;  and  now,  as  he  became  aware  that  Rollingbow  had 
anticipated  him  in  the  march,  and  had  even  effected  an 
entrance  into  the  encampment,  his  heart  misgave  him.  Push- 
ing forward,  however,  a  brief  survey  was  sufficient  to  inform 
him  of  the  true  state  of  affairs.  Suddenly  aroused  from  sleep, 
amid  shouts,  and  flames,  and  mist,  the  Spaniards  were  con- 
founded. Hastily  collecting  the  first  half  dozen  men  he  met, 
Warwick  led  them  to  the  defense  of  the  breastwork,  but  again 
found  that  the  Onondaga  was  before  him.  The  active  chief, 
aided  by  those  without,  had  already  succeeded  in  effecting  a 
breach,  through  which  a  score  of  savages  were  entering  as 
the  American  came  up.  Uttering  a  cry  for  succor,  the  whites 
discharged  their  muskets,  and  clubbing  them  in  their  hands 
rushed  on  their  assailants.  The  foe  recoiled,  but  encouraged 
by  the  voice  of  Rollingbow  and  the  small  number  of  their  op- 
posers,  immediately  rallied  again ;  when,  Don  Manuel  coming 
up  with  a  reinforcement,  after  a  short  and  furious  struggle, 
they  were  finally  driven  back,  and  with  yells  of  disappointed 
rage  sought  the  covert  of  the  forest.  Very  shortly  all  sub- 
sided into  silence  again,  and  the  presumption  was,  that  the 
enemy,  meeting  with  a  warmer  reception  than  they  antici- 
pated, had  withdrawn.  Hearty  but  hasty  congratulations 
passed  between  Don  Manuel  and  Captain  Warwick,  and  while 
the  former  remained  at  the  point  of  action  to  repair  the  breach 
in  his  defenses,  the  American  took  the  round  of,  the  camp. 

The  night  was  now  intensely  dark.  Such  portions  of  the 
burning  tents  as  it  had  been  found  difficult  to  extinguish,  were 
pulled  down  and  thrown  in  a  mass  together ;  but  the  light 
which  the  smoldering  fragments  sent  forth  was  wholly  in- 
sufficient to  dispel  the  gloom.  The  smoke  rose  heavily,  or 
hardly  rising  at  all,  mingled  with  the  fog,  and  formed  a  dense 
volume  of  vapor,  which  the  eye  in  vain  strove  to  penetrate 


THE  ATTACK  193 


Having  seen  that  the  sentinels  were  at  their  posts,  Warwick 
approached  the  fire,  and  as  he  did  so,  observed  an  Indian 
snatch  a  brand  from  the  mass  ;  and  springing  forward,  he 
perceived  that  it  was  Rollingbow.  The  chief  no  longer  wore 
the  complacent  countenance  which  Warwick  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  see.  He  was  naked  to  the  waist,  and  disfigured 
Avilh  paint ;  and  yet  the  glaring  colors — the  spots  and  stripes 
which  covered  the  upper  part  of  his  person,  and  transformed 
him  into  a  demon,  were  only  in  keeping  with  the  malignant 
expression  of  his  face.  The  fire  was  between  them,  and  the 
American  had  already  elevated  his  pistol,  before  he  recog- 
nized the  Onondaga  in  his  altered  form.  Then,  indeed,  from 
a  very  natural  feeling,  he  paused  ;  and  ere  he  could  recover 
from  his  surprise  sufficiently  to  speak,  the  savage,  dropping 
his  brand,  disappeared. 

But  the  star  of  the  daring  and  successful  Rollingbow  was 
on  the  wane.  As  he  retired  from  the  compassionate  weapon 
of  his  white  adversary,  for  an  instant  his  predominant  caution 
forsook  him,  and  making  a  sudden  turn  to  baffle  pursuit,  just 
at  the  instant  that  the  shouts  of  his  warriors  informed  him 
that  they  had  renewed  their  attack  on  the  Spanish  outworks, 
he  unwarily,  in  the  darkness,  threw  himself  into  the  out- 
stretched arms  of  Hugh  O'Brady.  The  collision  produced  an 
utterance  of  the  slight  guttural  "Waugh!"  from  the  Indian, 
and  the  corresponding  one  of  "  Och !"  from  the  Irishman,  as 
they  met  with  a  force,  had  it  not  been  well  balanced,  sufficient 
to  have  brought  them  both  to  the  ground.  O'Brady  was  a 
muscular  man,  and  a  brave  one,  still  he  experienced  certain 
premonitory  qualms  as  the  withy  limbs  of  the  savage  closed 
around  him  ;  and  he  felt  within  himself  that  the  grapple  was 
one  unto  death.  Nevertheless  he  brought  his  brawny  arms 
around  his  enemy,  if  not  as  quickly,  with  a  right  good-will, 
and  with  such  force  as  almost  to  suspend  the  function  of  his 
breathing.     Both  dropped  their  muskets  as   useless   incum- 

9 


194  CAMP  FIRES   OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

brances,  and  for  the  moment  neither  knife  nor  pistol  could  be 
extricated,  so  that  the  struggle  was  solely  one  of  limb  to  limb, 
where  each  depended  on  his  God,  and  the  pillur  of  his  own 
strength.  They  raised  upon  each  other,  whirled  and  writhed 
with  interlocked  limbs,  and  the  whole  exerted  power  of  their 
frames.  The  tall  and  supple  Indian  overtopped  the  Irishman 
by  a  head ;  but  his  body  bent  in  every  direction  under  the 
sturdy  strength  of  O'Brady ;  still,  with  the  agility  of  the 
wildcat  of  his  own  hills,  he  would  recover,  and  the  less  elas- 
tic white  would  stagger  under  the  sudden  and  unexpected 
force  of  his  rebounds.  At  length  the  contest  seemed  about 
to  terminate.  The  Indian  was  bent  over  nearly  to  the  ground, 
and  the  Irishman  uppermost ;  when,  quickly  dropping  his  knee 
to  the  earth,  and  sustaining  for  an  instant  the  whole  weight 
of  his  adversary,  the  savage  shot  upon  his  feet  like  an  arrow, 
and  with  a  sudden  whirl  placed  himself  upon  the  prostrate 
body  of  his  opponent.  It  now  indeed  seemed  all  over  with 
Hugh.  For  the  moment  he  was  stunned,  and  his  foe  had 
already  succeeded  in  extricating  his  knife,  and  had  raised  it  in 
his  hand  to  strike,  when,  with  a  last  effort,  O'Brady  seized 
him  by  the  scalp-lock  which  hung  from  the  top  of  his  head, 
and  winding  his  arms  around  his  neck,  forced  it  down  upon 
his  breast,  where  he  held  it  with  the  strength  and  tightness 
of  a  vice.  The  struggles  of  the  Indian  were  desperate,  but 
ineffectual.  He  gave  random  blows  witl^his  weapon,  which 
grew  weaker  and  weaker,  till,  at  last,  his  muscles  relaxed, 
his  limbs  became  pliant,  and  he  lay  motionless  upon  the  body 
of  his  fortunate  adversary. 

When  Hugh  O'Brady  considered  that  his  terrible  antagonist 
was  actually  dead,  or  if  not  dead,  at  least  insensible,  he  cau- 
tiously loosed  his  hold,  and  dragged  himself  out  from  beneath 
the  carcass,  with  the  design  of  finishing  his  achievement  with 
a  single  blow  ;  when,  at  a  bound,  the  wily  chief  was  again  on 
his  feet,  possessed  himself  of  his  musket,  and  disappeared  in 


TITE  ATTACK.  195 


the  darkness.  The  Irishman  gazed  after  him  with  a  feeling 
akin  to  his  terror  of  the  supernatural :  but  the  noise  of  the 
combat,  the  shouts  of  the  assailants  and  assailed,  were  wax- 
ing louder  and  louder ;  he  shook  himself  to  ascertain  if  bone 
and  muscle  still  would  play  at  will,  groped  till  he  found  his 
gun,  and  with  a  bluff  oath  and  a  whole  heart  advanced  to  the 
support  of  his  fellows  in  arms. 

The  Lady  Viola,  on  this  eventful  night,  was  awakened  by 
the  cry  that  gave  notice  to  the  sleepers  of  the  camp  that 
their  enemies  were  upon  them.  She  knew  the  voice,  but  had 
little  time  to  reflect  on  the  strangeness  of  its  appearance  there. 
Rising  in  haste,  she  threw  aside  the  hangings  which  divided 
her  apartment  from  that  of  her  father,  and  entered  his  room. 
Don  Manuel  was  already  on  his  feet,  with  his  arms  in  his 
hands.  He  drew  his  daughter  to  his  breast  and  entreated  her 
to  be  calm ;  when  the  shouts  of  the  savages  and  the  cry  of 
fire,  coming  to  his  ear,  he  placed  his  servant  Solyman  at  the 
door  as  a  guard,  and  rushed  out  of  the  block-house.  A  dull 
fire  blazed  on  some  stones  in  one  corner  of  the  cabin ;  and 
the  smoke,  slowly  struggling  through  the  moist  atmosphere, 
ascended  in  sluggish  volumes,  and  escaped  at  an  aperture  left 
for  its  egress,  save  such  folds  as  lost  their  direction,  and 
rolled  into  the  angle  of  the  roof,  filling  it  with  fantastic  and 
shadowy  wreaths.  Viola  cast  a  look  of  silent  anguish  around 
as  her  father  disappeared.  She  did  not  weep,  but  she  trem- 
bled, and  her  face  was  deadly  pale.  Turning  to  Solyman,' 
she  bade  him  leave  her,  and  go  out  and  look  after  the  safety 
of  his  lord.  But  the  faithful  menial  knew  his  duty  better. 
He  replied  with  words  of  cheer :  and  the  attention  of  the 
Lady  Viola  was  immediately  thereafter  withdrawn  to  her 
women,  who  rushed  into  her  presence  with  all  the  frantic 
behavior  of  ungovernable  fear.  She  set  herself  to  soothing 
them,  and  became  calm. 

"  Ruby,"  said  she  to  that  tall  blue-eyed  maiden,  who  stood 


196  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN". 

apart  from  the  rest,  silently  listening  to  the  din  and  confusion 
without,  "you  set  us  an  example  of  fortitude  to-night,  wh.ch 
we  shall  all  do  well  to  follow.  Your  father,  too,  is  exposed 
to  the  dangers  of  the  battle,  and  still  you  are  composed." 

"  Heaven  save  my  father  and  my  good  mistress  !"  whispered 
the  girl  in  reply,  with  a  slight  Irish  accent ;  and  the  pallor  of 
her  usually  bright  face  sufficiently  indicated  the  depth  of 
those  feelings,  the  outward  manifestation  of  which  she  pos- 
sessed the  strength  of  mind  to  repress. 

Signor  Antonio  and  Doctor  Oquetos  now  entered  the  block- 
house. 

"  Daughter,"  said  the  divine,  addressing  the  Lady  Viola, 
"  fear  not !  Have  no  apprehension  for  the  success  of  our 
arms.  The  saints  will  not  give  us  over  to  become  an  inherit- 
ance to  the  heathen  ;  the  Christian's  God  is  with  us,  and  we 
shall  conquer !  Solyman,  child,  what  canst  thou  distinguish 
without ?  by  the  ear,  I  mean;  for  that  wondrous  organ,  the 
eye,  is  just  now  utterly  useless." 

"  I  hear,  father,"  returned  Solyman,  "  the  yells  of  the  sav- 
ages. Now  they  grow  fainter ;  and  now  I  hear  the  shouts  of 
victory  from  our  defenders." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !"  ejaculated  the  priest,  holding  up  his 
haxids. 

"  But  my  father !"  said  Viola.  "  Would  that  I  were  assured 
of  his  safety  !     Even  a  victory  has  its  black  shadows." 

'*True,"  said  the  kind-hearted  divine.  "But  our  lord  is 
doubtless  safe.  God  would  not  take  him  from  us,  in  the  wil- 
derness of  a  foreign  land,  surrounded  as  we  are  by  wolves. 
And  now  thank  our  Latly,  daughter,  for  I  hear  him  approach- 
ing." 

The  Lady  Viola  fervently  raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven ;  but 
instead  of  the  form  of  her  father  presenting  itself  at  the  door, 
an  Indian,  with  uplifted  tomahawk,  sprung  upon  Solyman. 
But  sudden  as  was  the  attack,  the  faithful  attendant  to  whom 


THE  ATTACK.  197 


Don  Manuel  had  confided  the  safety  of  his  daughter,  was  not 
taken  by  surprise.  His  pistol  was  swifter  than  the  hatchet 
of  his  foe  ;  and  the  dusky  assailant  drew  back  with  a  cry  of 
pain.  But  a  moment  after,  Solyman  himself  staggered  within, 
pierced  with  an  arrow.  Signor  Antonio  and  Doctor  Oquetos 
now  rushed  to  the  defense  ;  and  the  platoon  of  savages  who 
immediately  assailed  the  entrance,  found  themselves  unex- 
pectedly and  squarely  blocked  out  by  the  pursy  body  of  the 
divine.  With  the  worthy  doctor  a  few  paces  behind  him,  as 
a  corps  of  reserve,  the  holy  father,  brandishing  the  sword  of 
the  domestic  in  his  hand,  bade  the  enemy  pause,  and  poured 
out  upon  them  a  loud  volley  of  characteristic  imprecations. 

The  savages  certainly  did  pause  under  the  anathemas  of 
the  priest,  but  whether  from  respect  to  his  spiritual  or  his 
physical  powers,  or  merely  from  surprise  at  his  unique  figure 
and  mode  of  warfare,  remains  uncertain.  The  hesitation,  how- 
ever, was  but  for  a  moment ;  and  had  there  been  no  other 
arms  than  those  Signor  Antonio  and  Doctor  Oquetos  opposed 
to  their  progress,  the  result  of  the  contest  could  not  have  been 
doubtful.  But  from  the  time  the  drama  began  to  thicken,  from 
the  point  where  real  danger  declared  itself,  the  maiden  Ruby 
had  placed  herself  in  advance  of  her  companions,  where  all 
unconsciously  she  stood  iii  a  defiant  attitude,  like  a  hawk  at 
bay.  Fortunately  for  those  imperiled  with  her,  an  antique 
blunderbuss  which  hung  against  the  wall  now  caught  her 
eye  ;  and  quick  as  thought  she  snatched  it  down  ;  and  resting 
its  heavy  brass  barrel  on  the  shoulder  of  the  divine,  discharged 
its  contents  of  grape-shot,  full  in  the  faces  of  the  foe.  With 
yells  of  pain  and  rage  they  retreated. 

The  Lady  Viola,  meanwhile,  with  her  women  had  retired 
to  the  farther  extremity  of  the  block-house.  The  struggle  at 
the  entrance  was  hardly  completed  by  the  exploit  of  the  he- 
roic Irish  girl,  when  she  discovered  the  buskined  feet  of  an 
Indian  protruding  through  the  aperture  in  the  roof ;  and  before 


198  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  BED  MEN". 

she  could  think  of  fleeing  or  giving  an  alarm,  he  had  leaped 
down,  and  stood  before  her  in  all  the  terror  of  a  savage  war- 
rior. Though  in  paint,  and  trappings,  and  arms,  nothing  was 
lacking,  still  it  was  evident  at  a  glance  that  age  could  hardly 
elevate  the  intruder  to  the  dignity  of  a  man.  Indeed,  though 
he  aped  the  warrior  well,  he  could  not  have  numbered  more< 
than  seventeen  summers :  and  as  he  paused  for  a  moment 
within  a  few  paces  of  the  defenseless  and  shrinking  Viola, 
giving  her  opportunity  to  remark  his  extreme  youth,  it  could 
not  be  but  that  a  ray  of  hope  should  be  gathered  from  the 
circumstance.  The  language  of  nature  is  intelligible  to  all. 
The  Lady  Viola  spoke,  but  louder  by  her  posture,  her  inno- 
cence and  her  beauty,  than  by  her  voice.  Her  face  and 
hands  uplifted  to  Heaven,  rather  than  to  her  enemy,  were 
white  as  the  snow  of  his  hills ;  and  as  her  soft  tones  fell  on 
his  ear,  and  her  eyes  were  again  lowered  to  his,  he  still 
paused,  and  his  features  relaxed  into  an  expression  of  min- 
gled admiration  and  pity.  But  his  weapon  remained  uplifted, 
and  the  struggle  with  his  nature  seemed  yet  of  doubtful  issue, 
when  he  was  felled  to  the  ground  by  a  strong  arm  from  be- 
hind;  and  Charles  Warwick,  springing  forward,  caught  the 
drooping  flower  of  Spain  in  his  arms. 


THE  EEPULSE  ;  AND  DEATH  OF  ROLLINGBO"?r, 


"  A  scene  of  death  ;  where  fires — 
And  blended  arms,  and  white  pavilions  glow." 


WHEN  the  Indians  were  expelled  from  the  Spanish  works, 
after  their  first  temporary  success,  the  chief  Rollingbow, 
with  several  of  his  warriors,  in  the  darkness  and  confusion, 
slipped  aside,  and  remained  within  the  fortificatioUi  The 
events  which  befell  them,  and  the  mischief  they  came  near 
accomplishing,  are  already  known.  Fortunate  was  it  for  the 
inmates  of  the  block-house  that  Warwick,  soon  after  losing 
sight  of  the  Onondaga,  in  the  patrol  he  kept  up  from  point  to 
point,  and  his  search  after  the  cunning  savage,  who,  he  sus- 
pected, was  still  in  the  camp,  stumbled  on  the  cabin,  in  season 
to  finish  the  good  work  which  Solyman  and  Ruby  O'Brady 
had  so  well  begun.  As  he  supported  the  Lady  Viola  in  his 
arms,  he  whispered  a  few  words  of  kind  greeting  in  her  ear, 
promised  her  protection,  and  assured  her  of  the  safety  of  her 
father.  From  her  he  turned  to  the  young  savage,  who, 
stunned  by  the  blow  he  had  received,  was  lying  at  his  feet ; 
and  calling  for  a  rope,  he  bound  his  arms,  and  led  him  away 
to  an  opposite  corner  of  the  room,  where  the  boy  vsunk  down 
like  a  vanquished  spaniel,  and  hung  his  head  in  sullen  silence. 
Warwick  next  dispatched  Doctor  Oquetos,  much  against 
the  private  wishes  of  that  gentleman,  to  Don  Manuel  for  a  file 
of  men,  both  to  protect  the  block -house  and  to  guard  the  pris- 
oner.    The  detachment  soon  made  its  appearance  headed  by 


200  CAMP  FIBES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

the  veteran  Hugh  O'Brady ;  and  Signor  Antonio,  who  with 
most  exemplary  courage  had  continued  to  maintain  his  posi- 
tion in  the  door-way,  though  the  big  drops  of  sweat  were  roll- 
ing from  his  broad  face  in  no  moderate  shower,  was  accord- 
ingly relieved.  Having  thus  provided  for  the  safety  of  the 
Lady  Viola  and  her  women,  and  committed  the  wounded  Sol- 
yman  into  the  hands  of  Doctor  Oquetos,  Warwick,  with,  a 
lighter  heart  than  he  had  known  for  some  days,  proceeded 
again  to  do  duty  at  the  ramparts. 

He  found  Don  Manuel  and  his  men  resolutely  defending  the 
shattered  works  against  a  series  of  irregular  attacks,  which 
were  prosecuted  in  a  darkness  so  profound,  that  it  was  quite 
impossible  to  distinguish  an  enemy  at  two  paces'  distance. 
The  plans  of  the  Indians  had  evidently  been  broken.  At  one 
moment,  with  terrifying  shouts,  they  would  let  fly  a  volley  of 
balls  and  arrows,  from  the  effects  of  which,  though  sheltered 
by  their  embankment,  the  Spaniards  were  not  always  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  escape.  This  perhaps  would  be  succeeded  by  a 
complete  silence,  encouraging  for  a  time  the  delusive  notion 
that  the  enemy  had  withdrawn.  But  this  state  of  suspense, 
less  endurable  indeed  than  active  warfare,  would  be  broken 
by  a  sudden  call  for  succor  at  some  unexpected  point,  where 
the  subtile  savages,  with  characteristic  stillness  and  dexteritv, 
had  already  secured  a  footing.  From  these  successes  they 
were  not  always  easily  dislodged,  but  maintained  any  mo- 
mentary advantage  they  might  gain  with  a  dogged  tenacity 
which  nothing  but  the  swift  bolts  of  death,  or  the  grasp  of  the 
whites,  hurling  them  down  from  the  breastwork,  were  able  to 
overcome. 

Thus  passed  a  period  of  near  two  hours  from  the  time  of 
the  first  assault ;  and  the  Spaniards,  harassed  with  their  in- 
cessant and  trying  duties,  ardently  longed  for  day.  Thus  far 
the  attacks  had  been  confined  to  the  front  or  north  line  of  the 
defenses  ;  and,  indeed,  the  river  sides  had  been  considered 


THE  REPULSE.  201 


nearly,  if  not  entirely,  inaccessible.  But  now  a  sentinel  at 
the  right  gave  the  alarm  ;  the  cries  of  the  savages  at  the  same 
time,  and  from  the  same  quarter,  broke  upon  the  night ;  and  si- 
multaneously their  shouts  and  their  volleys  were  renewed  along 
the  whole  front.  It  was  obvious  that  they  had  hazarded  a 
double  assault.  Reinforcements  were  at  once  dispatched  to 
the  new  point  of  danger  ;  and  amid  the  uproar  and  confu- 
sion that  ensued,  the  shouts  of  the  assailants  and  the  assailed, 
the  explosion  of  fire-arms  and  the  clang  of  steel,  no  one  noted 
the  hurried  despairing  cries  for  succor  from  a  still  different 
part  of  the  lines,  though  caught  up  and  echoed  by  the  iron 
lungs  of  Hugh  O'Brady.  At  length  the  watchful  ear  of  War- 
wick Caught  the  voice  of  the  Irishman,  and  with  a  handful  of 
followers  he  rushed  to  the  block-house.  There  he  found  all 
safe,  but  by  the  direction  of  Hugh  he  proceeded  to  the  Dela- 
ware side  of  the  encampment,  where  his  arrival  was  oppor- 
tune indeed.  A  half  dozen  whites  were  there  holding  at  bay 
more  than  twice  their  number  of  the  enemy  ;  and  he  at  once 
perceived  that  the  fortress  had"  come  near  falling  by  a  feint  of 
the  cunning  foe.  While  the  attention  of  the  besieged  had  been 
distracted  and  turned  in  other  directions,  silently  they  had 
scaled  the  precipitous  height,  taken  the  sentinels  by  surprise, 
and  by  the  time  Warwick  and  his  party  arrived,  had  secured 
a  foothold  which  they  were  evidently  determined  to  maintain 
The  frail  fence  of  stakes  was  broken  down  ;  and  each  sav- 
age as  he  gained  the  top  of  the  bank,  stood  on  a  fair  field  for 
combat,  his  retreat  cut  ofi",  and  hope  alone  in  victory. 

Adding  his  cry  for  succor  to  the  thousand  sounds  of  the  night, 
Warwick  and  his  followers  joined  in  the  melee.  But  destruc- 
tion being  in  their  rear,  the  Indians  stood  their  ground  and 
fought  with  a  desperate  bravery  worthy  of  the  fame  of  their 
Confederacy.  At  this  closing  hour  of  the  contest,  the  knife 
and  tomahawk  of  the  red  man  drank  its  due  proportion  of 
blood.      But  despite  their  determirmte  courage,  it  ere  long  be-: 

9* 


202  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

came  evident  that  success  was  beyond  their  reach.  Addi- 
tional reinforcements  arrived,  and  they  w^ere  shortly  hemmcv 
in  by  a  circular  phalanx,  which  they  found  it  impossible  to 
break.  They  wavered  ;  they  were  forced  back  closer  and 
closer  upon  the  brink  of  the  precipice  ;  but  as  they  showed  no 
pity,  so  they  asked  no  quarter  ;  and  the  Spaniards,  irritated  by 
their  obstinacy,  and  smarting  with  their  own  wounds,  became 
as  merciless  and  savage  as  themselves.  They  hurled  the 
miserable  wretches  down  the  gulf,  up  which  with  such  incon- 
ceivable toil  and  daring  they  had  managed  to  climb.  But  the 
places  of  those  who  fell  were  at  once  supplied  by  others,  who, 
as  they  gained  the  height,  sprung  upon  their  feet,  and  raised 
their  battle-cry,  and  shrunk  not  from  a  like  fate  in  their  turn. 
They  shouted  as  they  struck  once  more  for  revenge,  when 
the  hope  of  victory  was  no  longer  left  them;  they  shouted  as 
they  fell  — and  their  yells  rung  in  the  air  as  they  plunged 
through  the  thick  gloom  down  the  precipice  ;  where  their  end 
was  announced  by  the  dull  sullen  sounds  which  came  up  from 
the  invisible  crags  below.  But  that  revenge,  so  sweet  to  the 
Indian,  even  in  defeat  and  destruction,  was  not  wholly  un- 
gratified.  Several  of  the  Spaniards  were  killed.  Some  of 
^  the  more  resolute  of  the  savages  preferred  to  meet  death  in 
the  warm  grapple  ;  and  knife  in  hand  gave  it,  or  received  it, 
in  the  close  embrace;  while  one  Herculean  warrior,  as  he 
perceived  that  his  hour  had  come,  seized  the  foeman  who  was 
pressing  him  too  closely,  aiid  with  him  in  his  arms,  hugged 
to  his  bosom,  leaped  down  the  black  and  cavernous  abyss. 

While  these  horrid  scenes  were  in  progress,  amid  the  cries 
and  shrieks  and  noise  of  fire-arms  which  arose  on  all  sides  of 
the  camp,  there  was  one  voice  that  pealed  above  all  other 
sounds,  and  reached  the  ears  of  all.  It  seemed  overhead  in 
the  air;  and  many  a  Spaniard,  as  he  Jjeard  that  prolonged, 
wild  echoing  cry  to  the  onset,  experienced  a  thrill  of  terror, 
lest  it  might  be  the  genius  or  the  demon  of  the  people  with 


THE  BEPVLSE.  203 


<vhom  he  was  warring,  resting  on  the  mysterious  cloud  which 
enveloped  them,  and  urging  on  the  battle.  Again  and  again 
it  rung,  and  was  accompanied  by  an  explosion,  as  of  a  mus- 
ket, which  would  shake  the  atmosphere  above  the  combatants  ; 
and  to  each  one  of  these  wondrous  war-cries  and  reports  the 
savages  would  reply  with  answering  shouts,  and  an  impetuous 
renewal  of  their  unavailing  efforts. 

But  now  it  was  that  a  sight  became  visible,  which  sus- 
pended the  work  of  slaughter,  and,  for  a  time,  held  every 
faculty  of  the  beholders  in  mute  amazement.  The  wind, 
which  for  some  minutes  had  been  freshening,  suddenly  swept 
down  from  the  north,  and  in  an  instant,  as  it  were,  rolled  back 
upon  the  river,  like  a  curtain,  the  dense  canopy  of  fog  which 
had  shrouded  the  bluff,  bringing  into  view,  as  though  by  a 
stroke  of  magic,  in  the  center  of  the  encampment,  the  tall, 
ragged  body  of  a  dry  pine,  already  for  fifty  feet  of  its  height  a 
dazzling  pillar  of  flame  ;  and  far  above,  in  bold  relief  against 
the  sky,  the  outline  of  a  human  form.  A  murmur  of  horror, 
hardly  louder  than  the  breathing  in  a  troubled  dream,  run 
through  both  ranks  of  the  opposing  forces,  who,  but  a  moment 
before,  had  stood  braced  against  each  other  in  the  strife,  re- 
joicing in  the  destruction  which  they  dealt. 

Whoever  it  might  be  on  the  tree,  he  was  aware  of  his 
danger ;  and  when  first  perceived,  was  urging  his  way  down 
to  the  bottom ;  but  the  subtile  element,  like  the  tongue  of  a 
serpent,  lapped  itself  round  the  inflammable  trunk,  and  spring- 
ing from  knot  to  knot,  and  arm  to  arm,  seemed  likely  to  meet 
him  half-way,  when,  turning  from  the  furnace  beneath,  he 
sought  a  present  respite  in  the  top,  which  towered  like  an 
enormous  mast  to  the  height  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  It  was 
then  that  Warwick  recognized  the  features,  and  pronounced 
the  name  of  Rollingbow.  The  word  was  echoed  by  the 
Indians,  who  simultaneously  made  a  movement  in  advance, 
but  were  borne  back  by  the  weapons  of  the   Spaniards,  and 


204  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

obliged  to  remain  inactive  spectators,  without  the  ability  to 
attempt  the  rescue  of  their  chief.  Indeed,  what  could  be 
done  ?  Hopefess,  utterly,  did  the  task  appear,  and  each  one 
read  in  the  hasty  and  troubled  glance  of  his  neighbor  that  the 
doom  of  the  proud  Onondaga  was  sealed — that  the  whole 
power  and  appliances  of  earth  would  not  suffice  to  extricate 
him  from  his  impending  fate.  Opinions  like  these  were  just 
beginning  to  find  a  whispered  utterance,  when  the  young 
Indian,  whom  we  left  a  prisoner  in  the  block-house,  rushed 
forward,  and  extending  his  manacled  arms  on  high,  called 
upon  his  father ! 

The  appeal  w^as  electric,  and  aroused  the  inventive  ener- 
gies of  the  spectators.  There  was  another  tree  standing 
within  some  fifteen  feet  of  that,  which  now,  for  more  than 
half  its  height,  was  a  column  of  fire  ;  and  Warwick,  with  a 
sudden  thought,  sought  out  among  the  timbers  which  lay  scat- 
tered around,  a  pole  of  sufficient  length  to  extend  from  the  one 
to  the  other,  and  of  a  strength  to  sustain  the  weight  of  a  man. 
Divesting  himself  of  his  upper  garments,  and  with  a  blow  re- 
leasing the  son  of  Rollingbow  from  his  bonds,  he  slung  the 
pole  to  his  own  back  with  a  cord  and  commenced  the  ascent. 
The  youth,  at  once  comprehending  his  plan,  threw  himself  on 
the  trunk  beneath,  and  followed. 

While  these  preparations  were  in  progress,  the  one  for 
whose  benefit  they  were  intended  exhibited  no  interest  what- 
ever in  the  result.  The  brightness  of  the  fire  below  rendered 
him  so  minutely  visible,  that  every  motion,  even,  as  it  seemed, 
to  the  swelling  of  a  muscle,  was  discernible  from  the  ground. 
He  stood  on  a  small  limb  near  the  pinnacle  of  the  tree,  and 
sought  no  oth*er  support  than  what  he  gained  by  slightly  lean- 
ing against  the  taper  and  spear-like  trunk,  which  hardly 
extended  above  his  head.  His  face  and  naked  bust,  stained 
with  those  variegated  hues  and  figures  which  register  the 
achievements,  and,  at  the  same  time,  add  so  greatly  to  the 


THE  REPULSE.  205 


terror  inspired  by  the  Indian  warrior,  were  calm  and  still. 
No  emotion  was  perceptible,  no  twitching  or  shrinking  of  the 
flesh,  no  heaving  of  the  chest.  His  eye  was  placid,  and 
mostly  fixed  upon  the  sky ;  and  the  only  movement,  save  his 
composed  breathing,  was  that  of  the  lips,  as  a  low  guttural 
chant  came  down -on  the  winds,  which  was  the  death-song  of 
the  Onondaga. 

With  the  gazing  multitude,  from  the  moment  that  Warwick 
and  the  young  Indian  commenced  their  hazardous  attempt,  all 
was  a  noiseless  and  breathless  suspense  ;  and  it  now  became 
painfully  intense,  as  the  development  of  a  moment  would  dem- 
onstrate their  failure  or  success.  The  youth  shouted  to  his 
father  to  descend  a  few  feet,  and  secure  the  timber  as  they 
should  extend  it  to  him  ;  but  the  old  chief  moved  not,  and,  if 
he  heard  at  all,  he  gave  no  evidence  of  it.  The  whole  host 
of  the  two  embattled  lines  shouted,  but  with  no  better  success ; 
and  each  one  raised  himself  on  tiptoe,  as  Warwick  elevated 
the  pole  and  projected  it  over  upon  a  cragged  arm  of  the  burn- 
ing tree,  which  it  was  designed  should  receive  and  support 
one  of  its  extremities.  The  descending  timber  struck  several 
inches  from  the  trunk,  the  limb  gave  way,  and  both  fell 
through  the  sparkling  furnace  to  the  ground  together.  A  uni- 
versal groan  unconsciously  escaped  from  the  bosoms  of  the 
spectators,  as  this  their  only  and  frail  hope  was  so  effectually 
crushed,  and  each  disposed  his  mind,  as  best  he  could,  to  await 
the  catastrophe. 

A  period  of  but  a  few  minutes  elapsed  from  the  time  that 
the  situation  of  the  chief  was  discovered,  before  the  flames, 
encouraged  in  their  upward  tendency  by  the  pitch  which  was 
plentifully  mingled  with  the  light  tinder  of  the  surface  of  the 
tree,  reached  their  unfortunate  victim.  Still  he  moved  not — 
not  even  when  the  lambent  tongues  curled  round  his  body — 
nor  until  the  scorching  element  had  completely  enveloped  him 
in  its  folds,-  wlien,  like  the  spirit  of  fire,  he  seemed  to  exult  in 


206  CAMP  FIBES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

the  black  clouds  and  red  whirlwinds  which  surrounded  him, 
and  throwing  out  his  arms,  pealed  forth  his  last  battle-cry, 
sprung  into  the  air,  and  descended  like  a  flaming  thunderbolt 
to  the  ground. 

An  armistice  had  been  virtually  declared  by  the  interest 
which  both  parties  had  taken  in  the  melancholy  fate  of  Rolling- 
bow,  and  now  neither  seemed  dhsposed  to  the  renewal  of  the 
contest.  The  thirst  for  blood  was  slaked,  the  appetite  for 
carnage  glutted  ;  and  the  Indians,  sadly  and  silently,  set  about 
collecting  their  dead,  in  which  they  were  assisted  by  the 
softened  Spaniards.  The  fire,  which  they  themselves  had 
kindled  for  the  destruction  of  the  sleeping  whites,  lighted  them 
in  their  woful  search  in  the  trenches  and  among  the  rocks,  until 
the  majestic  pine,  the  last  victim  of  the  element,  hastened  to 
its  finale  by  the  axe,  and  the  application  of  pikes  to  direct  it 
in  its  descent,  tottered  and  fell,  with  a  broad  sheet  of  flame, 
and  the  noise  and  jar  of  the  thunder.  The  few  prisoners  that 
the  Spaniards  had  taken  were  released,  and  the  gray  of  the 
morning  was  just  looking  in  from  the  east,  when  the  wild  men 
of  the  woods,  bearing  their  dead  with  them,  and  among  them 
the  body  of  their  chief,  sullenly  retired  from  the  scene  of  the 
late  conflict.  But  as  they  went,  a  wild  and  most  melancholy 
wail  came  back  upon  the  winds. 


^ttx  Stontg-si^^ 


THE    PRISONER.     DOCTOR    OQUETOS   AND   THE   ■WOUNDED. 


'  Ah,  woman  !  In  this  world  of  ours, 

What  gift  can  be  compared  to  thee  ? 
How  slow  would  drag  life's  weary  hours, 
Though  man's  proud  brow  were  bound  with  flowen. 

And  his  the  wealth  of  land  and  sea, 
If  destined  to  exist  alone. 
And  ne'er  call  woman's  heart  his  own  !" 


THE  Lady  Viola  had  looked  on  the  closing  scenes  of  the 
drama  of  the  night  with  a  woman's  terror  and  a  woman's 
interest.  So  rapid  had  been  the  changes,  and  so  absorbing 
in  their  nature,  that  as  Warwick  left  her  side,  his  momentary 
presence,  and  the  words  he  uttered,  as  well  as  the  danger 
from  which  he  had  rescued  her,  and  the  events  which  pre- 
ceded his  coming,  seemed  rather  like  the  vagaries  of  a  dream 
than  a  reality.  But  substantial  evidences  of  the  fray  were 
before  her ;  and  summoning  with  a  strong  effort  her  scattered 
energies,  she  proceeded  to  look  into  the  condition  of  her 
wounded  domestic.  She  found  him  reclining  by  the  side  of 
the  doorway ;  and  with  the  arrow  still  sticking  in  his  body, 
and  his  head  supported  by  the  faithful  Ruby,  he  was  patiently 
awaiting  his  fate,  whatever  it  might  prove.  His  eye  caught 
that  of  his  mistress  as  she  approached,  and  though  he  had 
shed  his  best  blood  in  her  defense,  and  perhaps  given  her  his 
life,  his  features  lighted  up  with  an  expression  of  deep  grati- 
tude for  the  interest  she  manifested  in  his  behalf.  But  Doctor 
Oquetos  was  already  by  the  side  of  the  suffering  man,  with 
his  instruments;  and  the  Lady  Viola  had  hardly  turned  away 


208  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

when  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  the  announcement, 
that  the  flint-headed  missile  was  safely  extracted,  and  that 
though  it  had  made  a  cut  in  the  poor  fellow  like  the  gash  of  a 
spear,  the  wound  was  by  no  means  mortal. 

During  the  fierce  struggle  at  the  outworks  which  succeeded, 
the  Lady  Viola  and  her  women,  having  recovered  from  the 
first  shock  of  terror,  busied  themselves  in  the  preparation  of 
bandages  and  other  comforts  for  the  wounded.  While  thus 
occupied,  Viola's  attention  was  occasionally  directed  toward 
the  prisoner,  who  remained  nearly  motionless  in  the  position 
where  he  had  been  placed ;  but  she  observed  that  his  eye 
seemed  to  seek  her  out  and  follow  her  in  all  her  movements. 
But  his  features,  so  far  as  she  could  perceive  through  the  dis- 
guise of  the  colors  which  distorted  them,  had  lost  all  traces  of 
ferocity,  and  were  now  characterized  by  the  mild  and  inno- 
cent expression  of  a  child.  He,  indeed,  started  as  that  strange 
war-cry  from  above  first  struck  his  ear — but  those  wild  battle- 
tones  startled  all  who  heard  them — and  a  moment  after  the 
youth  was  calmer  than  those  who  watched  him.  By-and-by 
she  noticed  that  his  eyes  were  turned  to  the  opening  in  the 
roof,  throtigh  which  he  had  entered,  with  an  all -engrossing 
interest,  which  soon  amounted  to  agony,  when,  springing  from 
the  floor,  with  a  shriek  of  horror,  he  darted  past  his  guard  and 
vanished  from  the  cabin.  A  moment  more  and  those  who  re- 
mained became  aware  of  the  cause. 

They  saw  him  next  as  in  conjunction  with  Warwick,  he  made 
the  desperate  attempt  to  save  the  life  of  his  father.  At  the  cul-  ■ 
mination  of  that  event,  he  stood  on  a  lofty  arm  of  the  tree  which 
he  had  ascended,  and,  on  the  failure  of  the  effort,  became  so 
fully  identified  in  feeling  with  the  object  he  would  succor,  that, 
as  his  parent  let  go  his  hold  and  sprung,  he  threw  up  his  own 
arms,  and  hardly  recovered  his  identity  in  season  to  save  him- 
self from  accompanying  him  in  his  descent.  As  he  came  down 
from  the  tree,  and  stood  like  a  statue  gazing  at  the  blackened 


AFTER   THE  BATTLE.  209 


and  shapeless  corse  of  his  father,  the  Lady  Viola  and  many 
others  regarded  him  with  compassion  and  with  tears :  and 
there  still  he  stood  gazing,  until  the  Indians  finally  lifted  the 
body  to  depart,  when  mechanically  he  followed  them  away. 

Thankful  that  in  the  midst  of  so  much  distress  and  deso- 
lation her  own  parent  still  remained  to  her,  with  a  full  heart 
Viola  sought  him  ;  and  while  for  a  moment  she  was  pressed  to 
his  breast,  the  one  who  shared  next  in  her  anxiety,  Captain 
Warwick,  passed  into  the  block-house.  The  American,  though 
he  had  remained  on  active  duty  to  the  last,  was  numbered 
among  the  wounded.  He  now,  accordingly,  submitted  him- 
self into  the  hands  of  Doctor  Oquetos,  who  at  once  proceeded 
to  an  investigation  of  his  case. 

We  are  apprehensive  that  the  reader,  from  some  expressions 
hastily  dropped  during  the  progress  of  this  work,  may  have 
imbibed,  to  some  extent,  an  erroneous  impression  with  respect 
to  the  erudite  Doctor  Oquetos.  If  so,  it  is  a  duty  we  take 
great  pleasure  in  performing,  to  set  the  matter  right.  Doctor 
Emanuel  Oquetos,  then,  though  by  no  means  a  Gengis-Khan, 
or  a  Solomon,  was,  nevertheless,  a  very  respectable  prac- 
titioner of  physic  and  surgery  for  the  age  in  which  he  flour- 
ished. He  was  educated  at  Salamanca  ;  and  what  was  of  far 
more  value  in  his  profession,  had  had  the  advantages  of  English 
practice.  He  had  been  much  about  the  world,  and  being 
withal  a  bachelor  of  fifty,  had  had  much  leisure  hanging  on 
his  hands,  which  he  had  devoted,  in  a  great  degree,  to  serious 
reflection ;  or,  as  he  would  have  expressed  it,  to  profound  in- 
vestigations into  the  hidden  recesses  of  nature,  not  excepting 
the  secret  and  unfathomable  caverns  of  his  own,  or  the  human 
mind.  Thus  he  had  projected  several  brilliant  theories,  the 
truth  of  which — they  never  having  been  tested — who  will 
take  it  upon  him  to  gainsay  ?  He  had  also,  during  his  sub- 
lunar pilgrimage,  done  something  more  than  invent  mere 
theories,  which  were  never  destined  to  be  put  in  practice :  he 


210  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 


had  won  a  fl&iH«  in  the  field  of  letters.  An  ardent  devotee  to 
the  sublime  mysteries  of  his  profession,  while  yet  compara- 
tively a  young  onan,  he  had  published  a  treatise,  which  made 
some  noise  at  the  time,  at  least  in  the  "  Salamanca  Gazette  ;" 
not  on  the  calculus,  nor  yet  the  differential  calculus,  but  on 
meteoric  stones  ;  embracing  a  new  theory  of  the  formation  of 
the  earth  and  the  solar  system.  At  a  later  period,  when,  as 
would  naturally  be  supposed,  his  mind  had  become  less  er- 
ratic and  filled  with  the  wisdom  of  years,  like  the  savans  of 
the  French  school  of  medicine,  he  knelt  before  the  muses ; 
not  that  he  might  pour  forth  in  bad  verses  his  professional 
lucubrations,  but  that  he  might,  as  in  due  time  came  to  pass, 
confer  on  the  world  a  score  or  two  of  amatory  Spanish  lyrics. 
Soon  after  the  consummation  of  this  last  event,  it  was,  that 
Don  Manuel  Torrillo  went  out  to  Mexico  ;  and  receiving  the 
recommendation  of  the  President  of  the  University  of  Sala- 
manca, who  had  been  made  to  figure  somewhat  conspicuously 
in  a  Latin  inscription  to  his  book  of  poems,  Doctor  Oquetos 
became  appended  to  the  expedition  as  its  man  of  medicine. 

When,  therefore,  Charles  Warwick  submitted  himself  into 
the  hands  of  the  learned  doctor,  it  was  with  a  confidence  some- 
what proportioned  to  that  dignitary's  high  reputation ;  and  so 
the  professional  gentleman  himself  considered  it.  He  accord- 
ingly proceeded  to  an  investigation  of  the  case  with  a  mind 
quite  at  ease,  and  acquitted  himself  to  his  own  and  his 
patient's  entire  satisfaction.  He  first  made  some  general  in- 
quiries, and  then  adjourned  to  his  own  tent,  not  doubting  that 
for  the  remainder  of  his  morning  duties  his  usual  quarters 
would  be  sufliciently  secure.  He  then  proceeded  expe- 
ditiously with  the  dressing,  which  he  performed  well  and 
skillfully,  violating,  however,  as  he  did  so,  several  of  his  own 
well-grounded  canons  of  practice.  But  Doctor  Oquetos  is  but 
another  example  from  a  class  of  very  profound  persons,  who 
carry  one  set  of  rules  in  their  heads  and  another  in  the^r  fingers. 


AFTER  THE  BATTLE.  211 

When  he  had  placed  the  last  bandage,  he  gave  his  patient 
a  cooling  draught,  and  recommending  rest  and  pertinacious 
quiet  for  a  few  days,  promised  him,  if  his  directions  were  fol- 
lowed, a  speedy  return  to  strength  and  health.  Thereupon 
Warwick  tottered  out  of  the  tent ;  and  the  light  of  the  morn- 
ing being  still  indistinct,  and  every  one  occupied,  he  proceeded 
to  a  point  in  the  outworks  least  liable  to  observation,  and  bid- 
ding a  sad  mental  adieu  to  the  fortress  and  all  it  contained,  let 
himself  out  and  departed. 

Day  found  the  Spaniards  in  a  sorrowful  plight.  The  ex- 
citement of  the  defense  ;  the  sights  and  sounds  and  necessi- 
ties of  battle  were  no  longer  there  ;  and  in  their  place  were 
bodily  exhaustion,  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  and  the  pale, 
disfigured  faces  of  the  dead.  But  Don  Manuel  was  too  good 
a  soldier  to  suffer  his  own  energies  to  flag,  or  those  of  his 
men,  at  such  a  time  as  this.  He  remained  in  their  midst,  di- 
recting and  encouraging  them  ;  and  not  until  the  disabled  had 
been  attended  to,  the  slain  gathered  and  placed  in  a  condition 
of  decent  repose,  and  the  shattered  works  measurably  re- 
paired, did  he  think  of  rest  for  himself.  Then,  indeed,  he 
proceeded  to  the  block  house  and  inquired  for  Captain  War- 
wick. Not  finding  him  there,  and  learning  then  for  the  first 
time  that  he  was  wounded,  and  perceiving  that  his  daughter 
had  worked  herself  into  a  condition  of  considerable  alarm  on 
his  account,  Don  Manuel  proceeded  to  the  quarters  of  Doctor 
Oquetos.  Of  him  he  learned  that  the  American  officer,  having 
had  his  wounds  properly  cared  for,  left  his  tent,  something 
more  than  an  hour  before,  in  a  very  feeble  and  feverish  con- 
dition. A  painful  suspicion  of  the  truth  flashed  across  the 
mind  of  the  Spaniard,  which  he  hastened  to  dissipate  or  con- 
firm. He  was  soon  satisfied  that  Warwick  was  no  longer  in 
the  camp ;  and  furthermore,  from  the  account  the  physician 
had  given  of  his  injuries,  he  felt  equally  certain  that  if  the 
too  scrupulous  youth  had  succeeded  in  dragging  himself  so 


212  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

far  into  the  forest  as  not  to  be  recovered,  he  would  inevitably 
perish.  Full  of  distressing  apprehensions,  he  at  once  insti- 
tuted a  search ;  and  it  vv^as  not  long  before  the  object  of  his 
solicitude  was  discovered,  within  ten  rods  of  the  encampment, 
lying  senseless  on  the  ground.  He  was  borne  back  into  the 
block-house,  and  Doctor  Oquetos  again  summoned  to  his 
presence. 

If  Don  Manuel  still  needed  evidence  of  the  condition  of 
his  daughter's  affections,  it  was  now  vouchsafed  him.  The 
Lady  Viola  had  sustained  herself  through  the  multiplied  hor- 
rors of  the  night,  if  not  with  unyielding  strength,  at  least  with 
a  fortitude  which  on  no  occasion  had  wholly  deserted  her : 
and  now,  as  the  young  officer  was  borne  into  her  presence, 
she  did  not  shrink,  and  neither  did  she  fling  herself  in  uncon- 
trollable woe  upon  the  body  of  him  she  supposed  to  be  dead, 
and  in  truth  so  ardently  loved.  She  uttered  no  sound,  but 
turning  to  retire,  her  limb^  refused  their  office,  and  she 
withered  far  more  quickly  than  does  one  of  her  own  native 
lilies  when  exposed  to  the  scorching  sirocco. 

A  few  anxious  minutes  supervened,  and  both  Warwick  and 
Viola  were  restored  to  animation  :  the  one  to  a  state  of  weak 
and  feverish  existence ;  and  the  other,  though  she  strove  bard 
to  conceal  her  feelings,  to  a  condition  little  more  enviable. 
Don  Manuel  saw  the  workings  of  her  mind,  but  could  not 
chide  her. 


OONTALBSCSNCEt     SIXQULAR  DISPLAY  OF  AFFECTION  ON  THE  PART  OP 
NATIVE. 


"  No  I  not  the  dog  that  watched  toy  household  hearth 

Escaped  that  night  of  blood,  upon  our  plains  1 
All  perished  !    I  alone  am  left  on  earth  I 
To  whom  nor  relative  nor  blood  remains, 
No  !  not  a  kiudred«drop  that  runs  in  human  veins  1" 


CHARLES  WARWICK  slowly  recovered.  His  injuries 
themselves  were  not  serious ;  but  profuse  loss  of  blood, 
the  unnatural  exertions  to  which  he  had  subjected  himself 
after  receiving  them,  and  the  unquiet  condition  of  his  mind, 
produced  a  fever  and  subsequent  prostration  which  time  and 
care  could  alone  dispel.  Don  Manuel  watched  over  him  with 
the  kindness  and  interest  of  a  parent ;  and  while  he  lay  but 
partially  conscious  of  what  was  transpiring  around  him,  he 
was  nevertheless  fully  aware  that  the  Lady  Viola  was  near ; 
that  her  soft  hands  moved  his  pillow  and  bathed  his  burning 
head,  and  performed  for  him  a  thousand  nameless  offices, 
which  woman  alone  can  apprehend.  She  seemed  to  him  like 
a  beautiful  flitting  shadow,  an  angel  of  love  and  hope  and 
comfort;  and  sometimes  when  his  fever  was  high,  and  his 
mind  wandering,  with  her  by  his  side,  in  an  ecstasy  of  de- 
light he  would  soar  quite  away  from  the  earth,  and  bask  him- 
self, like  a  spirit,  in  the  emerald  fields  and  gossamer  groves 
which  lie  among  the  dun  and  yellow  clouds.  And  when  he 
became  better,  was  able  to  converse,  and  needed  to  be  amused, 
slae  was  still  with  him,  ready  to  talk,  or  read,  or  sing,  as  best 
comported  with  his  humor  or  his  strength. 


214  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

But  the  task  that  the  Lady  Viola  had  imposed  upon  her- 
self was  a  severe  one.  When  the  period  of  suspense  was 
over,  when  the  recovery  of  her  charge  was  pronounced  no 
longer  doubtful,  she  was  startled  and  alarmed  at  the  condition 
of  her  feelings.  Her  anxious  watching  over  the  sick  bed  of 
their  object  had  shown  her  their  intensity  and  depth.  She 
called  it  her  weakness,  and  resolved,  like  more  than  a  Spar- 
tan daughter,  to  overcome  it.  She  was  now,  therefore, 
to  fulfill  the  duties  of  a  friend  and  a  nurse,  to  cheer  her 
patient  on  to  health  again,  and  at  the  same  time  to  root 
out  from  her  own  breast  those  kindlier  sentiments,  those 
native  flowers  of  the  heart,  which  unbidden  had  sprung 
into  being,  and  almost  unnoticed  had  already  attained  strength 
and  luxuriance  both  of  leaf  and  blossom.  Why  did  she  not 
succeed  ?  There  was  no  word  of  love  spoken  between  them  ; 
and  both  were  well  aware  that  the  passion  could  alone  be  in- 
dulged at  a  mutual  and  fearful  hazard,  at  the  peril  of  all  their 
hopes  in  the  future.  But  the  eye  !  it  refuses  to  be  chained  ; 
and  in  spite  of  prude  Ace  or  effort  it  betrays  the  soul.  The 
tongue  can  deceive,  but  the  eye  is  the  window  of  the  mind  ; 
and  secrets  that  the  lips  refuse  to  tell  are  unwarily  uttered  in  - 
a  glance.  Besides,  the  soul  hath  knowledge  of  its  own, 
which  the  tongue  could  not  shape  words  to  utter  if  it  would. 
From  the  moment  that  Warwick  bore  the  fair  Andalusian  drip- 
ping from  the  water,  he  had  been  conscious  in  the  depths  of 
■  his  heart  that  a  chain  dark  or  bright,  bound  them  together; 
but  even  now  the  strength  and  perpetuity  of  this  chain  were 
far  from  being  realized  in  his  external  thoughts. 

It  is  probable,  nay,  certain,  that  a  similar  consciousness  had 
existed  with  the  Lady  Viola ;  and  hence,  though  the  lan- 
guage of  love  was  unused  between  them,  they  understood 
each  other  as  perfectly  as  though  their  mutual  feelings  ha^ 
been  canvassed  a  hundred  times.  Though  in  this  knowledge 
there  was  much  of  pain,  though  the  future  was  nearly  hope- 


THE  S->  V  OF  ROLUiYGBOW.  2' 4 


less,  and  compassion  for  each  other  wrung  the  very  chords  o£ 
life,  there  was  still  in  the  simple  consciousness  of  loving  ap^ 
being  loved,  aside  from  all  else,  a  fount  of  consolation  and  of 
joy,  which  paled  all  other  pleasures,  and  threw  all  other  aspi 
rations  in  the  shadow. 

Don  Manuel  was  often  present ;  and  sometimes  as  the 
brooding  clouds  of  their  evil  destiny  were  for  the  time  forgot- 
ten, and  they  gave  themselves  up  to  the  unalloyed  enjoyment 
of  the  hour,  he  would  sit  and  gaze  on  them  in  silence,  with 
an  expression  of  mingled  sadness  and  affection,  when  sud- 
denly starting  up,  he  would  take  a  restless  turn  or  two  across 
the  room  and  seek  the  open  air.  And  Warwick  !  was  he  in- 
deed giving  himself  up  to  a  dream  of  the  delights  of  life  1 
He  loved  ;  and  at  one  moment  was  buoyant  with  hope,  for  his 
young  spirits  refused  always  to  be  chained  down  ;  but  the 
next  he  was  chilled  with  despair.  At  times  he  bitterly  cnrsed 
himself  as  one  who  had  crossed  the  path  of  an  innocent  girl, 
and  darkened  the  prospects  of  her  life,  and  continued  to  pur- 
sue her,  regardless  of  her  welfare  or  his  own.  But  generally 
he  was  able  to  look  upon  his  actions  in  a  better  light.  When 
he  coolly  examined  them,  he  was  unable  to  perceive  that  he 
had  done  any  thing  which  a  strict  sense  of  integrity  and  drfty 
would  not  have  enjoined.  He  loved  the  Lady  Viola,  and 
who  should  blame  him  1  She  was  in  danger,  and  he  had  de- 
fended her.  The  end  of  the  fatal  passion  which  he  found  it 
impossible  to  conquer,  and  still  was  determined  to  control,  he 
did  not  pretend  to  foresee.  When  in  a  hopeful  frame,  he 
looked  up  with  trust  to  the  great  Architect  of  events ;  but 
when  desponding,  he  was  apt  to  feel  that  there  was  no  Provi- 
dence for  him.  He  was  also  much  of  a  philosopher,  and  put 
great  faith  in  the  retributive  nature  of  human  actions.  This 
was  well,  if  he  could  only  look  on  far  enough  to  see  that  this 
and  Providence  are  in  reality  the  same  thing.  Again,  as  he 
found  himself  on  the  verge  of  desperation,  he  would  break 


216  CAMP  FTHES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

away  per  force  from  the  conflict  of  his  feelings  into  a  quieter 
atmosphere,  and  say,  "  Time  is  the  great  parent  of  events. 
In  her  womb  are  all  things  future  hidden.  She  will  evolve 
my  destiny." 

In  his  conversations  with  Warwick,  Don  Manuel  took  an. 
early  opportunity  to  refer  to  their  unpleasant  separation  on  the 
Hudson.  He  apologized  very  frankly  for  his  rudeness  on 
that  occasion  ;  and  in  doing  so  gave  the  American,  perhaps, 
a  farther  insight  into  his  sentiments  than  he  had  intended.  In 
speaking  of  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  he  did  not  succeed  in 
concealing  a  growing  disgust  for  that  individual,  which  became 
still  more  pointedly  evident  as  he  alluded  to  the  union  of  that 
gentlemen  with  his  daughter.  He  spoke  of  the  event,  however, 
as  one  likely  to  occur  ;  but  Warwick  saw  that  his  heart  re- 
volted, and  refused  to  keep  time  with  his  words.  It  was  well 
understood  that  the  American  was  a  constrained  guest  at  the 
Spanish  camp,  and  would  probably  insist  on  taking  his  depar- 
ture so  soon  as  his  strength  would  permit ;  and  Don  Manuel 
accordingly  proceeded  to  combat  that  supposed  intention  with 
great  earnestness.  He  represented  to  him  very  truly,  that 
there  was  no  longer  safety  for  him  for  a  day  or  an  hour  in 
the  forest,  and  that  to  persist  in  quitting  the  protection  which 
their  numbers  gave  him  for  the.  present,  would  be  to  throw 
his  life  away  ;  that  with  respect  to  his  daughter,  he  relied 
freely  on  the  young  officer's  sense  of  honor  and  propriety, 
knowing  as  he  now  did  the  engagement  under  which  she 
rested.  Finally,  seizing  Warwick  by  the  hand,  and  press- 
ing it  warmly  and  convulsively,  while  his  lips  quivered,  lie 
said  : 

"  There  are  circumstances  which  it  would  be  improper  for 
me  to  explain,  that  leave  me  for  the  present  without  the  free- 
dom of  choice  or  will  \  else,  perhaps,  I  might  feel  disposed  to 
confer  on  you  the  only  jewel  that  now  remains  to  me.  But, 
young  sir, -whatever  I  may  at  any  time  have  said,  or  whatever 


TEE  SON  OF  ROLLINOBOW,  217 


I  may  hereafter  be  compelled  to  do,  I  beg  you  will  do  me  the 
justice  to  believe  that  I  entertain  for  you,  personally,  a  deep 
and  unchanging  regard ;  indeed,  sir,  such  a  regard,  as  had 
God  given  me  a  son,  I  should  probably  have  felt  for  him. 
Wherever  I  may  go,  whatever  I  may  become,  I  shall  ever  feel 
for  you  the  deepest  solicitude  ;  and  whether  in  wealth  or  pov- 
erty, in  honor  or  disgrace,  whatever  I  may  properly  command 
shall  be  yours,  even  to  my  life." 

The  heart  of  Warwick  was  too  full  for  reply.  He  returned 
the  pressure  of  the  hand  that  trembled  in  his  own,  in  silence  ; 
and  the  Spaniard  left  him.  For  an  hour  the  young  man  was 
in  a  whirl  of  conflicting  emotions.  The  knowledge  of  Don 
Manuel's  real  sentiments  toward  him  gave  him  unbounded  sat- 
isfaction ;  but  then,  on  fhe  other  hand,  he  now  felt  certain,  of 
what  he  had  before  only  suspected,  that  the  Spaniard  was  in- 
volved in  some  toil  which  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  had 
either  set,  or  of  which  he  controlled  the  springs  :  and  is  it 
matter  of  surprise  that  the  ardent  American  ended  with  a  re- 
solve, that  that  toil,  whatever  it  might  be,  should  be  broken  ? 
As  to  the  delicate  point  of  his  quitting  the  protection  of  the 
camp,  the  question  was  very  properly  adjourned  over  ;  inas- 
much as  his  utmost  strength  for  the  present  barely  sufficed  to 
enable  him  to  sustain  his  weight  for  a  single  turn  across  the 
floor. 

The  reveries  of  varying  hue  and  shadow,  in  which  War- 
wick habitually  indulged  when  alone,  were  one  day  inter- 
rupted by  the  entrance  of  Hugh  O' Brady,  followed  by  the  son 
of  Rollingbow.  There  was  a  touching  sadness  in  the  looks, 
and  a  native  grace  in  the  deportment  of  the  young  savage,  as 
he  approached  his  late  captor,  and  knelt  by  the  side  of  his 
couch. 

"  I  have  buried  my  father,"  said  he,  in  his  own  tongue, 
*  and  return  to  you.     I  am  yours." 

"  Good  Ahvyn,"  returned  Warwick,  much  affected,  "  I  have 
10 


218  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THF  RED  MEN. 

no  claims  on  you ;  go  back  to  your  family  again.  Go,  and 
become  like  your  father,  a  great  warrior,  and  a  chief  of  your 
people." 

The  eye  of  the  youth  sparkled  for  an  instant  at  the  thought, 
but  it  was  momentary. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  The  warrior's  strong  arm  is  weak : 
his  fleet  step  is  slow.  Alwyn  has  no  one  to  teach  him.  RoU- 
ingbow,  the  terror  of  his  foes,  the  light  and  joy  of  his  friends, 
is  dead.  Who  is  there  to  care  for  his  son  ?  I  will  stay  with 
the  white  man." 

"But,  Alwyn,"  said  Warwick,  "where  is  your  mother? 
Where  are  your  brothers  and  your  sisters  ?  They  will  mourn 
for  the  lost  one,  when  their  eyes  no  longer  behold  you." 

"Alwyn  has  none,"  returned  the  savage.  "The  deer  has 
its  kind,  the  moon  has  its  little  moons  to  go  with  it,  but  Alwyn 
is  alone.  His  people  are  wroth  with  the  white  chief.  They 
have  felt  the  power  of  his  arm.  They  seek  his  blood  :  but 
the  white  chief  loved  Rollingbow  ;  and  should  not  Alwyn  be 
by  his  side  to  defend  his  life,  lest  his  white  dove  weep,  and 
her  eyes  become  dim  like  a  star  when  it  is  hid  in  a  cloud  T 

Warwick's  heart  was  again^reached  by  this  singular  ex- 
hibition of  regard;  and  perceiving  that  the  youth  was  in 
earnest,  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  nature  to  refuse  him. 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  kindly,  "you  shall  stay  with  me  if 
you  like  ;  and  so  far  as  I  can,  I  will  supply  to  you  the  place 
of  the  noble  fa;ther  you  have  lost.  But  I  have  no  home  to 
offer  you,  no  roof,  no  quiet  lodge,  no  corn,  no  game  :  and  soon, 
perhaps,  my  boy,  if  you  link  your  fate  with  mine,  the  sky  or 
the  matted  trees  of  the  wood  will  be  our  only  covering,  and 
the  moss  and  the  leaves  our  bed." 

But  this  prospect  for  the  future  had  nothing  in  it  to  alarm 
the  young  Indian.  He  was  therefore  suffered  to  d,omesticate 
himself  with  the  master  he  had  chosen,  and  soon  became  a 
favorite  with  him.     At  first  he  was  indisposed  to  extend  his 


THE  sour  OF  ROLLINQBO-W.  219 

acquaintance  further.  Don  Manuel  was  struck  with  the  singu- 
larity of  his  conduct,  and  gazed  with  admiration  on  the  well- 
turned  limbs  and  pleasing  countenance  of  the  youth;  but  when 
he  approached  him  closely,  the  savage  drew  back  with  a 
haughty  dignity  which  the  Spaniard  himself  could  have  hardly 
equaled.  A  word  from  Warwick,  however,  restored  his 
equanimity,  and  he  suffered  himself  to  become  the  friend  of 
the  Castilian.  .    ^/ 

It  was  now  a  period  of  dull  inaction  in  the  camp.  The 
slain  had  been  consigned  to  their  last  home,  the  wounded 
were  recovering,  rest  had  recruited  the  men  ;  and  since  the 
night  of  the  assault  no  enemy  had  shown  himself.  Neverthe- 
less, as  yet  Don  Manuel  had  deemed  it  prudent  to  restrict  his 
followers  to  the  works.  In  this  posture  of  affairs,  even  the 
arrival  of  the  tawny  son  of  Rollingbow  was  hailed  by  the  en- 
campment as  an  era ;  and  there  was  a  disposition  manifested 
in  all  quarters  to  extend  to  him  courtesy  and  kindness.  These 
attentions  were  received  by  the  youth  with  that  calm  and 
stoical  indifference  so  often  remarked  as  a  striking  character- 
istic oFhis  race.  Once,  indeed,  he  seemed  moved.  The 
Lady  Viola  started  and  changed  color,  as  she  recognized  the 
young  warrior  who  had  put  her  life  in  jeopardy ;  and  the  pain- 
ful expression  which  shadowed  his  countenance  in  return, 
showed  with  sufficient  clearness  that  he  understood  the  cause 
of  her  alarm. 

Doctor  Oquetos  received  the  young  aborigine  with  the  same 
abundant  ceremonies  which,  many  years  before,  he  had 
framed  with  much  ingenuity,  and  observed  on  the  fortunate 
occasion  of  his  introduction  to  a  plenipotentiary  of  one  of  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe  ;  while  the  good  Father  Antonio 
saluted  the  youth  in  a  manner  altogether  paternal,  expressing 
at  the  same  time  the  ardent  hope  that  he  might  be  found  duly 
prepared  in  spirit  to  renounce  his  Pagan  formulas,  and  receive 
the  holy  and    true    faith.     Alwyn,  however,  comprehended 


220  CAMP  FIRES,  OF  TBS  BED  MEN. 

little  of  what  was  meant  by  these  demonstrations.  He  estab- 
lished himself  in  the  quarters  of  Warwick,  and  in  attendance 
on  him.  Nor  could  any  inducement  often  draw  him  thence. 
There  his  thoughts  and  affections  seemed  to  center,  and  there 
the  duties  he  had  prescribed  for  himself  to  end.  Of  the  wants 
and  wishes  of  his  master  he  was  ever  watchful,  and  in  his 
presence,  though  there  remained  a  pensive  expression  on  his 
features,  he  seemed  contented  and  happy. 


A  MYSTERY  BXPLAINKD.     THK  SUSQUEHANNA.     THE  BEND  MOUNTAIN-  AND  THE 
NEW  CAMP. 


'*  iTie  «nn  looked  from  his  lofty  clotiijl, 

While  flowed  its  sparkling  waters  fair— 
Aad  went  upon  his  pathway  proud, 

And  threw  a  brighter  luster  there  ; 
And  smiled  upon  the  golden  heaven, 

And  0.1  the  earth's  swett  loveliness. 
Where  light,  and  joy,  and  song  were  given 

The  glad  and  fairy  scene  to  bless." 


A  FEW  days  more,  and  Warwick  found  himself  again  in 
the  possession  of  some  portion  of  that  strength  which,  on 
the  morning  subsequent  to  the  reception  of  his  wounds,  he 
had  in  vain  endeavored  to  summon  to  his  aid.  He  was  able 
to  leave  his  tent  and  look  abroad  on  the  face  of  nature,  and 
witness  those  few  pastimes  in  which  the  bounds  of  the  camp 
permitted  the  Spaniards  to  indulge.  Viola  and  her  father  were 
generally  his  companions ;  and  as  they  enjoyed  the  same 
sights,  or  recalled  in  conversation  all  that,  had  occurred  since 
they  first  met — the  shipwreck  at  night  on  the  wild  Jersey 
shore,  the  few  fleeting  weeks  which  succeeded  in  New  York, 
their  passage  up  the  romantic  Hudson,  and  their  subsequent 
perils  in  the  wilderness — or,  again,  as  the  beautiful  and 
chivalrous  land  of  Spain,  or  the  wondrous  regions  of  the  New 
World,  where  mines  of  wealth  lie  hidden  in  the  hills,  and  the 
rivers  run  with  gold,  formed  subjects  of  discourse ;  and  pic- 
tures of  the  past  and  far-away  and  beautiful,  were,  by  the 
enchanting  wand  of  fancy,  conjured  before  the  mind,  the 
dangers  of  the  present  and  the  uncertainties  of  the  future  were 


222  .  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

forgotten.  The  Lady  Viola  became  blithe  again  as  a  lark. 
Soon,  emboldened  by  their  apparent  security,  they  ventured 
without  the  confines  of  the  camp,  and  again  the  groves  were 
awakened  by  the  music  of  her  voice  and  her  guitar.  With 
Warwick,  time  flew  on  fairy  pinions.  He  could  not  speak  of 
love — he  dared  not  think  of  love  ;  and  so  in  very  dssperation 
he  resolved  that  love  should  no  longer  trouble  him,  but  kept 
dreaming  all  the  more.  With  his  white  bird,  as  Alwyn  had 
poetically  christened  her,  hanging  on  his  arm,  he  yielded  him- 
self to  the  bewilderment  and  fascination  of  the  hour. 

But  those  halcyon  days — those  amber  visions,  which  depend 
so  much  for  their  vitality  on  inactivity  and  an  undisturbed 
fancy,  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  return  of  Michael 
Johnson.  His  surprise  at  meeting  Warwick  again  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  Spaniards  was  great,  but  was  forgotten  in  his  un- 
feigned satisfaction.  He  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  saluted 
him  with  an  unconscious  warmth  of  feeling,  as  unaccountable 
to  himself  as  to  those  who  witnessed  it. 

The  intelligence  of  which  Johnson  was  the  bearer  was 
soon  communicated.  Favored  by  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
and  by  the  concentration  of  the  Indians,  as  it  now  appeared, 
for  their  attack  on  the  camp,  the  party,  headed  by  Don  Fer- 
dinand and  himself,  had  met  with  no  interruption.  The 
evening  of  the  subsequent  day  brought  them  to  their  place  of 
destination  ;  and  no  time  was  lost  in  selecting  a  proper  posi- 
tion, and  entering  on  the  erection  of  permanent  accommo- 
dations, and  strong  and  defensible  works. 

The  reasons  for  all  this  preparation  and  outlay  of  labor,  as 
well  as  the  mystery  which  had  shrouded  the  movements  of  the 
Spaniards,  were  now  for  the  first  time  explained  to  Warwick. 
In  their  early  explorations  of  the  American  continent,  mostly 
in  search  of  the  precious  metals,  the  Spaniards  were  believed 
to  have  penetrated  regions  of  which  no  public  record  remained. 
The  present  territory  was  one  of  them.     Don  Manuel  was  in 


THE  MOUNTAIN  AND  ITS  FORTRESS,  223 


the  possession  of  an  ancient  map,  which  had  come  into  his 
hands  while-in  Mexico ;  in  which  the  route,  thus  far  traveled 
by  the  party,  was  minutely  and  accurately  laid  down,  even  to 
the  mountain  lying  in  the  great  bend  of  the  Susquehanna 
River,  on  which  the  advanced  fortification  had  been  located; 
and  which  was  represented  to  contain  a  gold  mine  of  un- 
usual richness.  Thus  far  every  indication  had  been  pro- 
pitious. There  had  been  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  particular 
mountain.  Its  bald  brow,  and  the  features  of  its  rocky  sides, 
answered  the  description ;  and  even  the  roughly  marked  in- 
denture which  was  represented  to  open  into  the  mine  itself, 
had  been  discovered.  As  prospecting  for  treasure  was  the 
mania  of  that  day,  as  it  has  become  again  of  this,  it  was  in  the 
common  order  of  events  that  the  Spaniards,  when  forced  into 
exile,  should  undertake  the  expedition  in  which  they  were 
engaged.  Johnson,  during  the  greater  portion  of  Don  Manuel's 
sojourn  in  Mexico,  had  been  in  his  employ.  In  one  of  his 
Western  scouts,  as  has  already  been  said,  the  veteran  had 
dropped  down  into  New  Spain,  where  he  had  been  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  use  his  brawny  arm  in  the  rescue  of  Don  Manuel 
from  the  fury  of  a  mob,  which  had  given  him  an  attached  and 
powerful  friend.  He  was  able,  of  his  own  knowledge,  to 
verify  the  general  correctness  of  the  ancient  map,  and  readily 
became  on©  of  the  party. 

It  was  a  pleasant  summer  morning  as  the  tents  were  struck, 
and  our  adventurers,  bidding  adieu,  with  some  melancholy 
thoughts,  to  a  spot  which  had  been  to  them  so  pregnant  of 
events,  took  up  their  line  of  march.  Not  a  cloud  obscured 
the  horizon :  the  air  in  that  primitive  and  sylvan  region  was 
cool  and  bracing ;  and,  above  all,  the  information  they  had 
gathered  from  Alwyn  of  the  crippled  condition  of  the  savages, 
and  the  report  of  their  scouts,  that  their  path  ahead  was  clear, 
and  the  assurances  of  Johnson,  contributed  to  clothe  each, 
countenance  with  cheerfulness.    The  hardy  and  patient  veteran 


224  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN; 

again  took  his  post  in  the  van  ;  and  Warwick,  though  still 
feeble, ^preferring  the  back  of  a  horse  to  the  toilsome  carriage 
of  a  litter,  was  consigned  to  the  center.  His  position,  as  he 
could  no  longer  occupy  the  post  of  danger,  was  all  that  he 
could  desire ;  near,  or  as  the  nature  of  the  way  permitted,  by 
the  side  of  the  Lady  Viola  and  her  father ;  and  supported  in 
the  rear  by  those  two  dignitaries,  on  whom  separately  rested 
the  care  of  the  bodies  and  the  souls  of  their  companions. 

The  passage  of  the  Delaware  was  safely  effected,  and  they 
entered  on  a  region  of  country  wild  and  romantic  in  the  ex- 
treme. There  was  no  sign  that  a  civilized  foot  hed  ever 
trodden  the  mazes  they  were  threading.  There  was  no  maris 
o^  the  huntsman's  axe,  no  remains  of  the  white  man's  fires ; 
but  on  the  contrary,  old  Indian  trails,  and  temporary  Indian 
camps,  and  blazed  trees,  marked  with  fantastic  savage  sym- 
bols, the  meaning  of  which  no  one  save  Johnson  could  at  all 
divine.  Viola  sighed  as  they  left  the  valley  of  the  river. 
During  her  fearful  travel  and  sojourn  in  the  woods  of  America, 
there  had  been  little  to  recall  to  her  recollection  any  thing  that 
she  had  ever  seen  before.  The  hills,  trees,  shrubs,  and 
flowers  were  the  product  of  another  hemisphere  from  her 
own.  The  running  waters  were  alone  the  same.  Indeed, 
there  is  a  familiar  look  in  the  rivers  of  a  foreign  land  which 
we  find  in  little  else.  Each  clime  clothes  its  mountains  and 
its  valleys  with  a  verdure  of  its  own,  or  the  hand  of  man  has 
turned  them  to  unfamiliar  uses;  but  the  clear,  pure  water  from 
the  springs,  with  its  silver  sheen  and  mystic  life-giving  powers, 
the  rocks  and  boulders  in  the  river's  bed,  the  pebbled  shore, 
the  smooth  or  rushing  current,  the  fringed  and  winding  stream, 
and  the  leafy,  sparkling  brooklet,  in  many  of  their  features, 
will  always  answer  to  the  water-courses  of  our  home.  And  | 
thus  it  is  that  we  ever  greet  the  rivers  as  our  friends. 

The  reader  will  readily  imagine  the  grave  conversations 
which  occurred  between  Doctor  Oquetos  and  Signer  Antonio; 


THE  MOUNTAIN  AND  ITS  FORTRESS.  225 

and  the  sensible  things  that  were  said  by  Captain  Warwick 
and  the  Lady  Viola,  during  the  journey  from  the  Delaware, 
over  the  hilly  region  that  intervenes,  to  the  valley  of  the  Sus- 
quehanna. But  that  mental  occupation  which  charms  away 
fatigue  was  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  the  unlettered  men  who 
constituted  the  great  majority  of  the  party :  and  notwithstanding 
the  beauty  of  the  day,  and  of  many  of  the  landscapes  that  met 
the  eye,  the  march  was  necessarily  toilsome.  At  times  they 
ascended  a  progressive  series  of  hills,  swell  after  swell,  each 
one,  ere  its  summit  was  attained,  promising  to  be  the  last; 
and  again  they  descended  into  some  deep  vale,  where  their 
way  lay  through  a  thick  mass  of  vegetation,  difficult  to  pene- 
trate ;  or  down  some  tangled  dell,  or  frowning  gorge,  by  the 
side  of  a  foaming  torrent,  or  under  some  rocky  spur,  which 
hung  in  frightful  shadows  over  their  heads.  The  intermin- 
able forests  were  much  the  same  as  they  had  seen  before. 
In  many  places  the  pine,  spearlike  and  evergreen,  predomi- 
nated ;  and,  indeed,  stretched  away  in  a  majestic  colonnade, 
with  dark  and  matted  roof,  and  many-pointed  spires  for  miles ; 
but  more  generally,  other  trees  were  intermingled.  Some  of 
them,  especially  the  smaller  ones,  were  rich  with  blossoms  ; 
and  the  Lady  Viola  did  not  disdain  to  receive,  at  the  hand  of 
Warwick,  a  branch  of  the  white  and  spotted  dogwood. 
Though  the  name  is  far  from  poetical,  the  gift  met  with  favor. 
She  bound  the  delicious  flowers  with  a  silken  cord,  and  wore 
them  in  her  girdle. 

The  night  was  passed  in  safety,  and  the  second  day  brought 
them  into  the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna.  As  they  descended 
from  the  mountains,  catching  glimpses  through  the  trees  of 
this  beautiful  river,  whose  waters  are  clear  as  crystal,  whose 
banks  are  hung  with  the  richest  verdure,  and  whose  valleys, 
in  all  the  different  forms  of  loveliness  and  landscape,  are  un- 
surpassed, the  dullest  eye  was  filled  with  animation,  and  the 
coldest  bosom  experienced  a  throb  of  pleasure.     It  was  God 

10* 


226  CAMP  FIRES  OJr'  THE  RED  MEN. 

talking  to  them  through  the  forms  of  earth,  and  inviting  them 
to  become  pure  and  harmonious  like  his  works. 

Passing  up  the  river  a  few  miles,  they  came  to  the  spot 
which  had  been  selected  for  the  crossing,  where  had  been 
provided  the  necessary  means,  and  where  Don  Ferdinand 
awaited  them.  The  Lady  Viola  saw  her  betrothed  approach- 
ing, and  every  thing  that  was  charming  around  her  faded  from 
her  sight.  At  that  moment  the  brightest  scenes  of  earth 
would  not  have  sufficed  to  buoy  up  her  sinking  spirits.  The 
unexpected  sight  of  Warwick  seemed  to  have  an  equal  effect 
on  the  chevalier.  He  changed  color  ;  and  Don  Manuel,  lead- 
ing him  aside,  spent  some  minutes  with  him  in  private  con- 
versation. On  their  return,  he  coldly  saluted  the  American, 
and  his  sign  of  recognition  Was  acknowledged  as  cavalierly 
as  it  was  given.  He,  however,  attached  himself  sedulously 
to  the  Lady  Viola ;  and  Warwick,  as  in  duty  bound,  but  with 
a  pang  at  his  heart,  fell  back. 

In  a  short  time  the  river  was  safely  crossed,  and  they 
entered  on  the  green  Indian  meadows  beyond,  covered  with 
a  fragrant  carpet  of  grass,  and  shaded  by  a  few  venerable 
trees  :  and  soon  thereafter  they  commenced  the  ascent  of  that 
mountain,  whose  bare  head,  as  it  lay  in  relief  against  the  sky, 
had  long  since  been  pointed  out  in  the  distance  by  Johnson 
as  that  portion  of  earth  supposed  to  conceal  within  its  bosom 
the  object  of  the  Spaniards'  golden  dreams.  It  was  the  wild- 
est spot  they  had  yet  encountered,  fitted  to  conjure  up  slum- 
bering superstitions :  and  the  men,  as  they  toiled  up  its  sides, 
were  struck  with  a  sensation  of  awe,  and  already  imagined 
that  they  discovered  in  its  atmosphere  a  strange  and  mys-  - 
terious  influence.  The  Lady  Viola  looked  with  a  different 
feeling  upon  the  huge  rocks,  the  precipitous  ascents,  and 
somber  ravines  by  which  they  were  surrounded.  In  a  better 
frame  of  mind  she  would  have  enjoyed  the  scene  ;  now  it 
could  do  little  more  than  to  distract  her  thoughts  from  objects 


TEE  MOUNTAIN  AND  ITS  FORTRESS.  227 

of  a  still  deeper  gloom.  As  a  counterpart,  the  birds  were 
singing  cheerfully  around,  as  though  they  found  no  fault  with 
the  rugged  but  majestic  hill ;'  and  the  air,  redolent  with  the 
scent  of  thyme,  and  other  undistinguished  sweets,  showed  that 
they  were  still  in  a  land  of  flowers. 

The  site  of  the  camp  was  a  rocky  prominence,  midway  up 
the  mountain,  steep  and  difficult  of  approach,  and  sheltered  on 
the  north  by  the  still  projecting  eminence,  from  which  it  was 
divided  by  a  narrow  ravine.  This  had  already  been  con- 
siderably deepened  by  digging.  The  main  works  for  defense 
were  similar  in  kind,  but  of  a  stronger  and  more  permanent 
nature  than  those  they  had  left  behind  them  on  the  Dela- 
ware, and  contained  within  an  enlarged  area  several  com- 
fortable log  houses. 

At  this  distance  from  the  base  of  the  hill,  the  vegetation, 
though  still  plentiful,  was  of  the  smaller  growth.  The  ver- 
dant laurel,  with  its  thick  satin  leaf  and  splendid  clusters  of 
flowers,  spread  away  in  immense  tracts,  here  and  there  inter- 
spersed with  little  clumps  of  birch  or  elm  or  other  hardy 
shrub,  and  an  occasional  low  and  knotted  pine  or  dwarfed 
chestnut,  which  seemed  set  as  land-marks  in  the  midst  of  a 
wilderness  of  bushes.  The  sides  of  the  steep  ascents  and 
the  edges  of  the  rocks  were  fringed  with  honeysuckles,  wild 
roses,  thyme,  whortleberries,  and  other  flowering  and  odorif- 
erous shrubs  and  plants,  which  filled  the  air  with  their  agree- 
able perfumes. 

In  the  distance  the  prospect  presented  a  succession  of  hills 
and  dales,  luxuriant  with  their  primitive  forests.  East  and 
south  a  gentle  depression  of  the  trees,  with  the  blue  water 
here  and  there  peeping  through,  and  glancing  in  the  sunlight 
like  flowing  silver,  marked  for  a  long  distance  the  course  of 
the  Susquehanna,  as  it  came  down  from  the  north,  and  circling 
round  the  mountain,  turned  again  toward  the  region  whence 
it  came.     Immediately  abreast,  where  the  river  was  broadly 


32^  OAKF  FIRES  OF  TEE  BED  MEN. 

in  view,  a  small  green  island  lay  sleeping  on  its  bosom,  o^ 
which  grew  a  few  venerable  white-armed  sycamores  an^ 
weeping  willows :  and  these,  with  the  water  prospect,  the 
fringed  and  flowered  banks,  and  Indian  meadows,  completed 
the  picturesque  landscape,  from  the  camp. 


ANOTHKB  CAMP  FIRB  TALE,  WHICH  WILL  BE  FOUND  IN  THE  END  TO 
INTIMATELY  CONNECTED  WITH  OUR  STORY. 


"  There  Is  a  song  of  sonow, 

The  death-dirge  of  the  gay, 
That  tells  ere  dawu  of  morrow 

These  charms  may  melt  away, 
That  sun's  bright  beam  be  shaded, 

That  sky  be  bine  no  more, 
The  summer  flowers  be  faded,  < 

And  youth's  warm  promise  o'er," 

IT  is  by  no  means  the  design  of  this  work  to  chronicle,  step 
by  step,  the  labor  and  the  alternate  hopes  and  fears  of  the 
Spaniards,  in  their  search  after  the  hidden  treasures  of  the 
earth.  Suffice  it,  that  across  the  ravine  already  mentioned, 
in  the  side  of  the  mountain  north  of  the  camp,  the  excavation 
was  commenced.  As  the  work  progressed,  encouraging  evi- 
dences of  the  proximity  of  the  precious  metal  were  not  want- 
ing. Indeed,  it  seemed  clear  that  the  present  adventurers 
were  by  no  means  the  first  visitors  to  this  secret  vault  of 
nature ;  but  that  the  hill,  at  this  particular  spot,  had  been 
penetrated  before.  Not  only  were  loose  specimens  of  ap- 
parent ore  obtained,  but  often  particles  or  scales,  as  it  seemed, 
of  the  pure  gold  itself.  The  stones  that  were  thrown  out 
were  rough  and  broken,  and  had  evidently  been  fractured  by 
force  :  and  on  a  closer  inspection,  the  marks  of  the  drill  were 
clearly  discoverable.  Small  deposits  of  wood-coal,  cinders, 
and  ashes  were  often  iiiet  with :  and  under  all  these  favor- 
able auspices,  the  work  rapidly  advanced  ;  and  very  shortly 


i30  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

.he  excavation  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  dreary  and  ca- 
pacious cave. 

There  were  an  abundance  of  deer  and  other  wild  game  in 
the  vicinity ;  and  the  hunt,  a  necessary  resort  for  the  raising 
of  supplies,  furnished  an  agreeable  relief  to  the  labor  of  the 
mine.  There  were  also  Indian  settlements  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, particularly  at  Oquago,  Cookhouse,  and  Chenang,  near 
the  junction  of  the  Chenango  River  with  the  Susquehanna : 
and  ere  long,  a  cautious  intercourse  with  them  was  estab- 
lished ;  until,  though  rarely,  some  buskined  savage  dared  to 
venture  within  the  precincts  of  the  fort ;  where  he  gazed 
with  wonder  on  their  social  arrangements,  their  implements, 
and  their  unintelligible  labor. 

The  little  varieties  of  incident  which  the  circumscribed 
operations  of  the  party  afforded,  while  the  novelty  remained, 
were,  nevertheless,  matters  of  sufficient  interest.  Thus  the 
daily  report  from  the  mine,  the  excitements  and  perils  of  the 
chase,  the  meeting  with  an  occasional  group  of  half  a  dozen 
panthers,  or  with  the  rattlesnake,  that  terror  of  the  American 
woods,  and  their  hazardous  negotiations  with  the  natives  for 
a  scanty  supply  of  corn,  furnished  for  a  time  abundant  food 
for  conversation  to  the  unoccupied. 

The  events  of  the  day  were  usually  discussed  in  the  even- 
ing, either  in  Don  Manuel's  lodge,  or  in  the  little  open  area 
which  adjoined  it ;  by  those  whose  standing  permitted  them 
to  mingle  in  the  social  circle  of  the  chief.  The  veteran  John- 
son was  ever  welcome  ;  and  the  Lady  Viola  never  tired  of 
his  simple,  unobtrusive  ways  and  unpretending  but  sensible 
discourse.  On  one  of  those  evenings  the  little  coterie  having 
been  found  particularly  harmonious  and  happy,  not  less  from 
the  presence  of  Johnson  and  Warwick,  than  from  the  absence 
of  Don  Ferdinand,  who  was  confined  to  his  own  quarters  by 
a  slight  indisposition,  the  Lady  Viola  look  occasion  to  recall 
to  the  recollection  of  the  old  man  an  implied  promise  he  had 


LUCY  AND  PAUL.  231 


made  her,  to  give  her  some  further  account  of  his  early  life. 
The  veteran  understood  the  point  of  allusion  at  once.  Re- 
clining his  head  on  his  hand,  he  sat  for  some  moments  in 
silence. 

"  There  can  be  little  interest  in  the  story,"  at  length  he 
said,  "  to  any  one  but  me.  Lucy  died,  and  I've  not  yet  forgot 
her.  But  her  pleasant  face  none  of  you  did  ever  see  ;  and 
why  should  you  be  called  to  grieve  over  her  sorrows  or  mine  ? 
Still,  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  tell  you  about  her,  for  I  should  not 
be  niggardly  of  words,  lady,  when  you  are  willing  to  listen." 

All  expressed  an  anxiety  to  hear  ;  and  Johnson,  composing 
the  visible  emotion  which  had  disturbed  his  rugged  features, 
proceeded  : 

"  I  have  told  you  before,  lady,  that  I  was  a  wild  youngster, 
one  at  whom  the  old  folks  shook  their  heads,  and  wondered 
how  he'd  end.  Still,  Lucy,  the  handsomest  girl  of  the  town, 
and  the  gentlest  of  all  creaters,  loved  me.  We  were  born 
and  bred  in  the  same  neighborhood,  within  a  stun's  throw  of 
each  other  ;  and  when  we  were  little  and  went  to  school  or 
meetin',  we  used  to  go  hand  in  hand  together,  like  brother  and 
sister.  I  called  her  my  little  wife  long  b-^fore  I  knew  the 
meaning  of  the  word ;  and  in  all  my  plans  of  life,  when  I 
•should  be  one-and-twenty,  Lucy,  with  her  smiling  blue  eyes, 
made  a  part. 

"  At  length  we  married  ;  and  though  poor,  we  had  enough, 
and  were  contented  and  happy.  My  home,  with  Lucy  by  my 
side,  was  the  place  where  I  always  liked  to  be  ;  and  while  she 
lived,  I  never  wanted  to  rove.     The  birth  of  our  little  Paul — " 

Warwick,  who  thus  far  had  been  an  attentive  listener,  here 
gave  a  sudden  start,  and  arose  from  his  seat.  He  put  his 
hand  to  his  head  ;  a  shadow  had  flitted  through  his  brain,  but 
he  could  not  catch  it.  Johnson  inquired  if  he  was  ill.  He 
declared  himself  quite  well,  apologized  for  the  interruption  he 
had  occasioned,  and  the  old  man  continued : 


232  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

^'  The  birth  of  our  little  Paul,  whose  story  is  already  known 
to  you,  daughter,  increased  our  happiness  ;  which  indeed  we 
had  considered  perfect  before  ;  and  if  even  I  thought  it  might 
change,  that  it  would  not  always  last,  'twas  when  I  looked  on 
Lucy's  delicate  form,  which  seemed  made  of  too  slender  ma- 
terials to  endure.  Still  among  the  neighbors  she  was  called 
pretty  healthy,  though  not  very  tough  ;  and  they  used  to  say  to 
me,  they  guessed  she'd  do  middlin'  well  as  I  was  pretty  care- 
ful of  her.  1  hoped  so  too.  She  was  cheerful  as  the  day  was 
long ;  and  thus  we  lived  till  Paul  was  about  two  years  old. 

"  At  this  time  the  Indians  were  getting  uneasy,  and  the  au- 
thorities reckoned  they  were  plotting  mischief  ag'in  the  set- 
tlements. Steps  were  accordingly  taken  to  guard  ag'in  their 
designs  ;  and  as  our  town  was  thought  to  be  very  much  ex- 
posed, a  company  of  soldiers  was  quartered  among  us  as  a 
guard. 

'  The  captain  who  commanded  them,  lady,  proved  to  be  a 
villain,  a  disgrace  to  nater  and  mankind.  He  gained  access 
to  my  house,  where  every  honest  man  was  free  to  come,  as  a 
friend  ;  but  he  turned  out  such  an  enemy  as  'tis  very  hard  ever  to 
forgive.  My  Lucy  attracted  his  notice  ;  and  when  I  was  away 
from  home,  he  would  steal  in,  and  insult  her  with  the  story  of 
his  wicked  love.  She,  poor  thing,  was  horror-struck;  but 
she  didn't  forget  her  duty  to  me  and  her  God,  nor  her  spirit  as 
a  woman.  She  bid  him  be  gone,  and  threatened  to  tell  me  ; 
but,  as  she  afterward  said,  he  laughed  her  in  the  face,  and 
clappin'  his  sword  with  his  hand,  told  her,  if  she  cared  for 
my  life,  not  to  trouble  me  with  complaints  about  him. 

"  An  officer,  in  those  days,  was  powerful,  and  his  path  not 
safely  to  be  crossed  by  one  like  me ;  and  Lucy,  poor  soul, 
alarmed  for  my  safety,  feared  to  tell  me  of  the  villain.  But 
I  see  that  somethin'  lay  heavy  on  her  mind,  and  after  beggin' 
me  on  her  knees  not  to  do  any  thing  rashly,  she  informed  me 
what  had  passed. 


LUCY  AND  PAUL.  233 


'*  Unmanned  by  her  tears  and  entreaties,  I  kept  quiet ;  but 
after  that,  staid  about  home,  and  watched  over  the  safety  of 
my  family,  as  a  hen  watches  over  her  brood  when  it  is  threat- 
ened by  a  hawk.  It  was  that  very  day  in  the  afternoon,  while 
I  was  at  work  in  a  field  near  by,  that  I  discovered  the  treach- 
erous Englishman  makin'  toward  my  house.  I  hurried  home  ; 
before  I  got  there,  though  I  wasn't  a  minute  behind  him,  I 
heard  Lucy  scream.  Snatchin'  the  handiest  weapon  by  my 
door,  which  happened  to  be  a  handspike,  I  rushed  in, 
Roused  by  my  approach,  the  scoundrel  let  go  of  Lucy,  who 
fell  senseless  on  the  floor,  and  confronted  me  with  his  sword 
Enraged  beyond  all  bounds  of  endurance,  with  one  blow  which 
his  sword  couldn't  stop,  I  laid  him  helpless  at  my  feet. 

"  My  first  care  was  to  restore  Lucy ;  after  which,  with 
much  ado,  I  succeeded  in  recallin'  the  breath  of  life  into  om 
enemy.  I  then  sent  for  some  of  his  soldiers,  who  came  and 
took  him  away.  He  was  badly  hurt,  but  left  swearing  the 
most  dreadful  revenge.  Lucy  was  almost  distracted,  and 
entreated  me  to  fly.  But  I  would  not  leave  her  ;  and  be- 
sides, I  did'nt  feel  that  I  had  done  any  thing  wrong  ;  and  it  is 
contrary  to  nater  for  an  honest  man  to  run  away. 

"About  an  hour  after,  a  file  of  soldiers  with  a  constable 
came  to  our  house,  and  bound  me,  and  took  me  off"  to  prison. 
I  would'nt  resist  the  law.  But  my  poor  Lucy,  if  she  wad 
nearly  distracted  before,  now  she  was  frantic.  She  followed 
along  in  the  road  after  us,  with  tears  that  would  have  melted 
a  stone;  but  the  heartless  soldiers,  instead  of  pitying  her, 
taunted  her,  and  heightened  her  grief  into  an  agony  of  terror 
by  tellin'  her  that  I  would  most  probably  be  hung,  or  shot  at 
any  rate,  if  the  captain  died,  which  was  next  to  sartain. 
This  was  too  much.  1  couldn't  stand  it.  My  heart  swelled 
up  till  it  was  too  big  for  my  bosom,  and  almost  stopped  my 
breath.  By  a  sudden  spring  I  broke  the  cords  that  confined 
my  arms,  and  knocking  down  one  or  two  of  the  guards,  who 


234  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

were  between  me  and  Lucy,  I  caught  her  in  my  arms.  They 
had  just  raised  their  guns  to  fire  ;  but  when  they  see  that  I 
didn't  intend  to  run  away,  they  forbore  ;  and  some  of  them,  I 
believe,  were  at  last  touched  by  Lucy's  sufferin',  for  we  were 
permitted  to  go  the  rest  of  the  way  together.  I  tried  all  I 
could  to  comfort  her  as  we  went  along. 

"  When  we  came  to  the  jail,  we  were  forced  to  separate. 
They  wouldn't  allow  her  to  go  in  ;  but  my  kind  neighbors  by 
this  time  were  gathering  round,  and  after  a  while  succeeded 
in  coaxin'  her  away.  They  took  her  to  her  lonesome  home  ; 
but  they  were  very  kind.  They  see  that  she  wanted  for 
nothin' ;  they  cared  both  for  her  and  her  little  boy  ;  and  when 
they  learnt  the  particulars  of  our  difficulty,  they  were  loud  in 
demanding  my  freedom.  Oh,  they  were  kind  indeed  ;  and  as 
my  enemy  recovered,  they  kept  watch  and  guard  over  the 
treasures  in  my  house. 

"  I  will  pass  by,  lady,  the  daily  pains- and  anxieties  of  my 
imprisonment,  which  extended  to  a  period  of  two  months.  The 
fore  part  of  the  time  I  saw  Lucy  a  few  minutes  about  every 
day,  through  the  grate  ;  after  that,  they  told  me  she  was  not 
very  well,  and  the  weather  was  so  bad  that  it  wasn't  thought 
best  for  her  to  venter  out.  The  officer,  meanwhile,  had  got 
well,  or  nearly  so;  and  either  giving  up  his  evil  designs,  or 
alarmed  at  the  clamor  of  the  town,  which  was  every  day  in- 
creasing, till  my  neighbors  threatened  to  tear  down  the  jail ; 
or  fearin',  perhaps,  that  the  whole  matter  would  come  before 
his  superiors,  and  possibly  the  Governor  himself,  the  charges 
ag'in  me  were  withdrawn,  my  prison  doors  were  opened,  and 
I  was  once  more  restored  to  my  Lucy. 

"  But,  oh,  how  changed  she  was  !  I  found  her  pale  as  the 
whitest  marble,  and  so  weak  that  she  could  scarcely  stand 
alone.  I  see  at  once  that  her  trouble  had  broke  her  heart ; 
and  though  she  smiled  and  tried  to  be  happy  ag'in,  she  couldn't 
get  it  out  of  her  mind.     Ever  after,  daughter,  she  was  a  mere 


L TTCT  AND  PAUL,  235 


child.  Day  by  day  and  week  by  week  she  sunk  away ;  the 
strings  of  her  spirit  were  cracked,  and  couldn't  be  mended ; 
and  like  the  frightened  bird  that  trembles  in  your  bosom,  she 
trembled,  and  by  turns  she  wept,  till  she  died." 

The  old  man  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  shook 
like  the  leaf  of  an  aspen.  With  him  many  years  were  com- 
pressed into  moments,  and  the  distant  past  had  become  again 
the  present  before  him.  His  listeners  were  deeply  affected, 
too  deeply  for  words  ;  and  as  he  closed  his  relation,  Warwick 
again  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  vague  shadows  which  he  could 
not  hold,  rushed  upon  his  mind  and  heart.  The  Lady  Viola 
burst  into  tears,  and  the  silent  drops  coursed  down  the  cheeks 
both  of  her  father  and  the  young  American.  But  they  were 
not  ashamed  to  shed  them. 


€\uiitn  f  lirlH* 


BTABLIGHT  BBVEBIBS  AND  SUNLIGHT  DBBAMS. 


"  How  beautiful  Is  night  I 
JL  dewy  freshness  fills  the  silent  air. 
No  mist  obscures,  nor  cloud,  nor  speck,  nor  ataln 

Breaks  the  serene  of  heaven  ; 
In  fuU-orbed  glory  yonder  Moon  divine 
Bolls  through  the  dark-bluo  depths, 
Beneath  her  steady  ray 
The  desert-circle  spreads. 
Like  the  round  ocean,  girdled  with  the  sky. 
How  beautiful  is  night  1  " 


WARWICK  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  The  shrieks  of 
the  unfortunate  Lucy  rung  in  his  ears,  and  her  sinking 
form  and  pale  corse  floated  before  him.  The  artless  tale  of 
Johnson  had  opened  the  fountains  of  his  heart,  and  the  cur- 
rent of  his  feelings  refused  to  be  stayed.  He  could  not  drive 
the  recollection  from  his  mind.  The  sweet  and  confiding 
creature,  as  he  had  depicted  her  to  himself,  her  short  and 
happy  summer,  before  the  spoiler  came,  and  her  untimely  end, 
were  graven  on  his  imagination,  and  possessed  him,  so  it 
seemed,  as  vividly  as  though  the  reality  had  actually  passed 
before  his  eyes.  And  now  he  could  account  for  the  fits  of  list* 
lessness  and  abstraction,  which,  in  periods  of  inactivity,  he  had 
frequently  noticed  in  the  rugged  and  weather-beaten  hunter  ; 
as  well  as  the  tinge  of  sadness  which  generally  shaded  his 
features.  He  was  indeed  a  man  of  sorrows.  The  storms  of 
life  had  beat  harshly  upon  him ;  his  sun  had  set  in  the  morn- 
ing •  and  all  besides  had  been  darkness,  storm,  and  winter, 


STARLIGBT  REVERIES  AITD  SUHTLIQET  DREAMS.  237 

save  the  dim  and  uncertain  hopes  which  cling  with  us  all  to 
the  unknown  and  invisible  future. 

Tired  at  length  of  his  restless  couch,  Warwick  arose. 
The  night  was  bland ;  and  partially  dressing  himself,  he 
stepped  out  of  doors.  Leaning  against  the  logs  of  the  rude 
cabin  he  gazed  upward  among  the  illimitable  stars,  and  pur- 
sued the  train  of  his  reflections.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  soft 
light  waved  along  the  top  of  the  mountain  above  him,  and  in  a 
moment  was  gone.  Soon  again  it  reappeared,  at  first  faint, 
then  glowing  with  a  deeper  luster,  and  then  it  vanished  as  be- 
fore. But  shortly  it  returned  again,  shooting  higher  and 
higher  with  a  deeper  blush  ;  and  other  jets  from  other  parts 
of  the  horizon  streamed  up  and  up,  in  lambent  lines  and 
waves  of  rose  and  gold,  until  they  met  at  the  zenith,  and  the 
whole  heavens  were  aglow  with  pale  rivers  of  flame,  and 
coming  and  passing  coruscations.  Soon,  however,  they  be- 
gan to  fade,  and  growing  fainter  and  fainter  and  fainter,  were 
no  more. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Warwick  had  beheld  the  mys- 
terious northern  lights.  But  his  excited  mind  could  not  stop 
there.  His  thoughts  pushed  beyond,  through  the  blue  vault 
of  night,  where  the  sight  can  not  penetrate  ;  and  reveled  in 
the  magnificence  of  millions  of  spheres  floating  in  such  glo- 
rious light  and  beauty.  He  stood,  in  mind,  where  no  man  had 
ever  stood,  and  saw  what  can  not  be  written. 

By-and-by  he  came  back  to  earth,  and  thought  again  of  the 
bright  and  lovely  things  it  contains.  He  thought  of  Johnson, 
of  Lucy,  of  the  Lady  Viola,  of  himself,  and  the  waywardness 
of  his  fate — fatherless,  motherless,  nameless ;  the  child  of 
want,  the  scholar  of  charity,  the  soldier  of  fortune,  and  the 
sport  of  destiny.  Man,  said  he,  is  indeed  a  bark  set  afloat  on 
the  rough  ocean  of  life,  beset  with  shoals,  with  calms  and 
tempests,  without  a  pilot  or  a  rudder.  But  the  next  moment 
the  monitor  within  made  himself  heard,  and  preached  to  him 


238  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN: 

in  the  still  night,  teaching  him  lessons  which  sooner  or  later 
all  must  learn  ;  recalling  the  events  of  his  own  life,  until  he 
was  fain  to  confess  with  a  saddened  and  sweetened  heart,  that 
there  is  a  Power  that  overlooks  us  kindly,  and  while  He 
leaves  us  in  some  good  sense  to  our  own  choice,  that  we  may 
be  ourselves,  protects  and  holds  us  all  in  the  hollow  of  His 
hand. 

But  the  old  man  and  his  Lucy  !  the  text  round  which  had 
circled  an  important  train  of  thought — he  could  not  yet  dis- 
miss them  from  his  mind.  Two  hours  after  he  found  himself 
still  in  the  starlight  leaning  against  the  logs.  His  body  had 
been  quiet,  but  the  mind,  that  most  wonderful  intangible  thing, 
which  was  his  very  self,  had  been  at  work.  It  had  vindicated 
its  own  divinity  by  an  effort  to  create  ;  and  the  result  was  as 
follows : 

THE  OLD  MAN'S  SORROW. 

The  pale  stars  are  beaming 

Over  land  and  sea. 
The  north  lights  are  streaming 

High  and  cheerily ; 
While  the  old  man  is  dreaming, 

If  asleep  he  be, 
Of  his  Lucy  that  is  gone, 

Gone,  gone,  forever ! 

The  years  that  have  circled. 

And  made  that  old  man  gray. 
Since  the  bride  of  his  bosom 

Was  given  back  to  clay. 
Have  failed  to  soothe  his  sorrows. 

To  him  they're  but  a  day. 
For  his  Lucy  she  is  gone. 

Gone,  gone,  forever! 

When  the  nights  are  creeping 

O'er  the  dewy  earth, 
And  others  all  are  sleeping, 

Or  full  of  rosy  mirth. 


STARLIGHT  REVERIES  AND  SUNLIGHT  DREAMS.  239 

Why  is  the  old  man  weeping  ? 

'Tis  for  his  home  and  hearth. 
For  his  Lucy  that  is  gone, 

Gone,  gone,  forever ! 

And  when  the  moon  is  breaking. 

When  the  blushing  skies 
Their  rosy  tints  are  taking 

To  charm  all  other  eyes, 
Why  is  the  old  man  waking. 

So  lothly  to  arise  ? 
Oh,  his  Lucy  she  has  gone. 

Gone,  gone,  forever ! 

And  when  the  day  is  vsrMling 

Its  sunny  hours  away. 
And  he  around  is  smiling, 

As  though  his  toil  were  play. 
With  light  cheer  all  beguiling. 

Why  sighs  he  old  and  gray  ? 
Oh,  his  Lucy  she  is  gone. 

Gone,  gone,  forever ! 

Wilt  thou  never  come  again. 

Sweet  bride  of  his  youth,  * 

With  the  sunlight  of  thine  eyes, 

And  thy  heart  of  holy  truth  ? 
Never,  never ;  but  the  old  man 

Shall  go  to  thee,  in  sooth — 
He  will  go  where  thou  art  gone. 

And  cherish  thee  forever  ! 

Warwick  went  to  bed  and  slept.  In  his  dreams  the  Lady- 
Viola  stood  before  him.  No,  it  was  not  Viola.  The  gentle 
expression  was  like  hers  ;  but  then  the  hair  was  the  color  of 
sunlight  and  the  eyes  were  blue.  It  was  Lucy.  He  per- 
ceived it  clearly  now;  and  though  he  knew  she  was  dead,  it 
did  not  surprise  him  at  all  to  see  her.  She  did  not  smile,  but 
her  face  was  radiant  with  loveliness  and  peace,  and  she  looked 
very  benignantly  upon  him  as  she  spoke.  He  did  not  hear 
her  voice,  and  yet  he  knew  very  well  that  she  spoke,  and  he 


240  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

understood  her  perfectly  as  she  called  him  her  child,  and  as- 
sured him  that  the  great  Father  of  All  was  kind  to  his  chil- 
dren, and  that,  by-and-by,  he  should  come  and  live  with  her 
in  her  home  of  glory. 

He  awoke.  As  he  opened  his  eyes  he  almost  saw  the 
beautiful  vision  before  him ;  and  was  quite  sure  that  a  soft 
glow  of  roseate  light  still  lingered  in  the  room.  He  reflected 
on  the  incident  with  surprise,  it  was  so  life-like,  and  turned 
the  words  over  and  over  in  his  mind  ;  and  by-and-by,  as  morn- 
ing was  about  breaking,  he  slept  again  ;  and  this  time  without 
dreams.  ^ 


Cfeagtu  ffetrtg-jOfitK 


THE  RIVALS.  A  HAND  TO  HAND  KECKONINO. 


Mtm,  ,  What  news  7 

Hot.  None,  my  lord,  but  that  the  world  Is  grown  honest. 

Oitn.  Then  to  doomsdey  near  j  but  your  news  is  not  true.    Let  me  question  more  In  ^rtlcuUr. 

THE  hue  of  health  was  again  restored  to  the  cheek  of  War- 
wick. The  blood  coursed  merrily  in  his  veins :  an  unde- 
fined hope  was  in  his  heart :  he  looked  abroad  on  the  face  of 
na,ture,  even  the  wilderness,  with  joy :  he  breathed  the  in- 
spiring air  with  delight ;  his  step  was  elastic,  his  arm  was 
strong  ;  and  he  felt  that  he  was  himself  once  more.  Little  or 
nothing  had  passed  between  him  and  Don  Ferdinand  from  day 
to  day.  The  Spaniard  seemed  studiously  to  avoid  him  ;  and 
that  he  might  do  so,  even  relinquished,  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent, the  society  of  the  Lady  Viola  and  her  father.  To  this 
Warwick  could  not  object ;  but  still,  as  his  health  became  re- 
instated, and  the  crisis  of  his  destiny  appeared  yet  distant  as 
ever,  he  began  seriously  to  feel  the  tardy  movement  of  events, 
and  the  extreme  delicacy  of  his  position.  Don  Manuel,  it  is 
true,  did  every  thing  in  his  power  to  render  him  contented 
and  happy :  but  latterly  he  had  made  no  reference  to  his  owa 
private  affairs;  while  day  by  day,  it  was  evident,  a  deeper 
shade  of  anxiety  was  gathering  on  his  brow ;  and  Warwick 
could  not  but  apprehend  that  his  own  presence  might  be  add- 
ing to  his  perplexities ! 

One  day  as  he  was  occupied  with  thoughts  like  these,  he 
strolled  down  the  side  of  the  mountain  to  the  river;  \nd  while 
walking  along  the  bank,  he  was  surprised  to  see  Don  Per- 
il •       _     . 


242  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

dinand  approaching.     The  chevalier  accosted  him  with  an 
affability  to  which  he  had  long  been  a  stranger. 

"  Captain  Warwick,"  said  he,  "  I  owe  you  sonae  expla- 
nations and  apologies,  which  it  is  now  my  intention  to  render, 
if  you  will  receive  them.  Obligated  to  you  as  I  am,  as  we  all 
are,  indeed,  it  manifestly  belongs  to  me  to  make  the  advances 
toward  a  reconciliation  between  us.  It  is  my  wish  that  the 
past,  or  whatever  has  been  unpleasant  in  the  past,  may  be 
forgotten." 

"  If  Don  Ferdinand  is  in  earnest,"  returned  Warwick,  "he 
will  find  an  attentive  listener ;  and  one  disposed  to  meet  him 
half  way." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Spaniard.  "  And  now  to  avoid  all 
misconceptions  for  the  future,  it  is  necessary  that  there  should 
be  a  precise  understanding  between  us  on  some  certain  points. 
Each  should  know  his  own  ground,  and  confine  himself  to  it. 
You  are  doubtless  aware  of  the  nature  of  my  connection  with 
the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo  T 

By  this  time  the  American  perceived  that  the  interview 
might  terminate  in  a  very  different  manner  from  what  its  com- 
mencement portended.  Anxious,  however,  to  avoid  an  un- 
pieasant  altercation,  he  simply  replied, 

"  I  am." 

"  She  is  my  affianced  wife,"  continued  Don  Ferdinand : 
"  and  may  I  be  permitted  to  inquire  if  Captain  Warwick 
recognizes  the  validity  of  the  engagement  subsisting  between 
us  ?" 

"  If  recognized  by  the  lady  and  her  father,  most  assuredly  I 
do,"  replied  Warwick. 

"  Has  not  Don  Manuel  informed  yr  u  that  such  is  the 
fact?" 

"  He  has." 

"  Then  I  am  to  conclude,  that  the  asseverations  of  those  who 
pretend  to  say  that  Captain  Warwick  follows  the  track  of  the 


A  HAjm  TO  BAND  RECKONING.  243 

Spaniards,  to  pour  his  tale  of  love  into  the  ear  of  the  Lady 
Viola,  and  to  steal  her  affections  from  her  lawful  lord,  are 
groundless  and  false  ?" 

"  You  are,"  replied  Warwick.  "  But,  Don  Ferdinand, 
understand  me  not  as  saying  that  I  am  indifferent  to  the 
esteem  of  the  lady  of  whom  you  speak.  Still  I  may  freely 
assert,  that  since  I  became  acquainted  with  the  contract  exist- 
ing between  yourself  and  the  Lady  Viola,  or  rather  between 
your  mutual  parents,  I  have  respected  it.  The  dangers  which 
have  beset  you  in  our  American  woods,  and  my  recent  wounds, 
I  suppose,  are  a  sufficient  explanation  of  my  presence  with 
you  now." 

The  chevalier  listened  impatiently.  Several  times  he  was 
on  the  point  of  interrupting  Warwick  ;  but  when  at  length  the 
latter  came  to  a  pause,  he  hesitated,  and  seemed  at  a  loss 
what  to  say.     The  American  continued  : 

"  Instead  of  listening  to  apologies,  Don  Ferdinand,  I  have 
thus  far  submitted  to  be  catechised  by  you,  and  have  answered 
your  questions  civilly.  I  trust  now  you  will  proceed  with  the 
purpose  you  expressed  at  the  outset." 

But  the  chevalier  would  not  relinquish  his  point. 

"  You  love'  Viola  ?"  said  he. 

«  I  do." 

"  Swear  by  your  honor,  as  a  soldier,  that  your  love  shall  be 
silent — that  you  will  never  breathe  it  in  her  ear,  never  inter- 
fere between  her  and  me  !" 

"  I  can  not — I  will  not,"  replied  Warwick,  emphatically. 
"  The  future  is  a  wide  field.  I  will  deal  fairly  and  justly  by 
you,  Don  Ferdinand,  but  I  will  not  tie  myself  up  for  all  time. 
The  lady  and  the  fates  must  judge  between  us." 

"  Ha !"  said  Don  Ferdinand,  turning  pale ;  while  every 
nerve  became  tense,  and  he  spoke  through  his  clenched  teeth. 
"  The  fates  then  shall  pass  a  sudden  judgment !" 

With  this,  quick  as  thought,  he  slipped  a  stiletto  from  the 


244  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TSE  RED  MEN. 

sleeve  of  his  right  arm,  and  sprung  upon  his  rival.  Though 
unprepared  for  an  essay  of  this  nature,  Warwick  was  so  for- 
tunate ?s  to  seize  the  descending  hand;  and  found  little  diffi- 
culty in  wrenching  the  weapon  from  the  grasp  of  the  des- 
perate Spaniard :  and  throwing  it  from  him,  the  blue  waves 
of  the  Susquehanna  closed  over  it.  But  as  he  did  so,  Don 
Ferdinand  tore  away  from  his  hold  and  drew  his  sword. 

Why  it  was  that  the  assailant  did  not  resort  to  his  pistols, 
for  he  had  a  brace  about  his  person,  must  be  left  to  conjecture. 
Perhaps  he  felt  more  at  home  with  the  dagger ;  and  after- 
ward, relying  somewhat  on  the  forbearance  of  the  American, 
preferred  to  avail  himself  of  his  acknowledged  skill  with  the 
instrument  he  now  brandished  in  his  hand. 

"  Sir  Warwick,"  said  he,  and  his  dark,  bloodless  lips 
quivered  as  he  spoke,  "  this  world  is  not  wide  enough  for  us 
both.  One  of  us  must  give  way.  You  are  my  bane,  my 
curse,  my  demon  that  tempts  me  to  sin.  I  would  rather  sleep 
with  Pluto,  this  night,  than  under  the  same  sky  with  you. 
Come  on,  then !  I  give  you  a  fair  field." 

"  A  fair  field  !"  repeated  Warwick  with  contempt.  "  I  will 
not  meet  an  assassin  on  such  terms.  Don  Ferdinand,  I  do 
not  want  any  difficulty  with  you  :  leave  me !  I  will  not  fight 
you." 

"  Coward!  hind!  serf!"  said  Don  Ferdinand,  elevating  the 
fingers  of  his  left  hand  in  derision  ;  "  you  shall  fight,  or 
run." 

"  Sir,"  returned  Warwick  very  deliberately,  "  I  warn  you  to 
be  careful,  and  not  tempt  me  too  far.  There  are  many  rea- 
sons why  I  would  not  harm  you,  nor  be  harmed  by  you. 
Your  imputations  I  despise.  I  would  not  sully  my  sword  by 
crossing  it  with  yours.  The  scaffi^ld  alone  can  do  you  proper 
justice  ;  and  to  that  I  leave  you.  I  tell  you  again,  I  will  not 
fight  you." 

"  And  do  you,"  said  Don  Ferdinand,  "  a  base-born  menial. 


A  HAKD   TO  BAND  RECKONINO.  245 

set  up  the  gentleman  over  me,  a  noble  of  Spain?  Who  was 
your  father,  pray,  and  who  your  mother  ?  Tell  me,  that  I  may 
write  their  names  in  my  tablets,  and  show  them  to  the  Lady 
Viola.  Not  fight,  ha !  ha !  You  will  flee,  then !  The  Lady 
^  Viola  is  the  prize  between  us !" 

Thus  saying,  he  rushed  madly  on  the  American.  Stung  by 
his  words,  and  compelled  to  act  in  self-defense,  Warwick  no 
longer  hesitated  ;  but  exclaiming  in  his  turn,  "  Viola !  I  will 
at  least  save  her  from  the  toils  of  a  villain  !"  he  disposed  him- 
self to  the  combat. 

The  parties  were  pretty  equally  matched.  Both  were 
skilled  to  cut,  thrust,  and  parry,  and  as  light  of  foot  as  the 
mountain  cat.  The  Spaniard  had  the  advantage  of  years  and 
training  with  his  weapon ;  but  this  was  perhaps  counter- 
balanced by  the  superior  coolness  and  strength  of  the  Ameri- 
can :  and  thus,  when  but  for  a  brief  space  the  solitude  of  the 
shore  had  been  broken  by  the  clang  of  steel,  and  Warwick  re- 
mained untouched,  the  doublet  of  his  adversary  showed  a 
spot  of  blood. 

"  Hell  and  its  furies  !"  exclaimed  Don  Ferdinand.  "  Am  I 
to  be  forever  baffled,  and  at  last  slain  by  a  nameless  boor  ?  Ye 
saints  forbid  !     God,  and  our  holy  mother,  forfend !" 

He  redoubled  his  efforts.  His  blows  and  lunges  followed 
each  other  in  rapid  succession ;  while  his  countenance,  so 
lately  pale,  was  now  flushed  and  swollen,  his  eyes  bloodshot, 
and  every  feature  distorted  by  the  fierceness  of  his  passion. 
His  furious  blows,  however,  were  skillfully  received,  parried, 
and  returned  :  and  at  length,  in  very  exhaustion,  he  paused. 
To  a  respite  Warwick  did  not  object :  and  with  their  swords 
still  crossed,  and  eye  riveted  on  eye,  step  by  step,  the  rivals 
passed  several  times  completely  around  each  other,  as  they 
took  their  breath. 

The  more  opportunity  he  had  for  reflection,  the  more  the 
American  felt  disposed  to  avoid,  if  possible,  a^serious  termi- 


246  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

nation  to  the  affray.  The  Spaniard  was,  therefore,  the  first 
to  recommence.  Making  a  pass  or  two,  he  seemed  to  collect 
himself  for  some  decisive  effort,  and  then  raised  his  weapon 
aloft,  as  though  with  one  tremendous,  final  blow,  to  cleave  his 
opponent  to  the  dust,  The  movement  was  but  a  feint.  The 
polished  steel  flashed  in  the  sun ;  but  suddenly  withdrawing 
it,  with  the  speed  of  light,  he  aimed  an  impetuous  thrust,  full 
at  the  heart  of  his  antagonist.  But  the  cunning  weapon  found 
Warwick  prepared.  With  a  powerful  circling  side-stroke,  he 
not  only  turned  the  threatening  point  from  his  breast,  but 
wrenched  the  instrument  completely  from  the  Spaniard's 
grasp;  and  it  fell  quivering,  at  the  distance  of  several 
paces  on  the  ground.  Don  Ferdinand  found  himself  dis- 
armed, and  with  the  sword  of  his  adversary  at  his  throat. 
There  was  a  brief  pause,  during  which  his  features  changed 
to  a -look  of  beseeching  terror,  while  his  limbs  shook  with 
affright. 

"  Cowardly  miscreant !"  said  Warwick,  contemptuously. 
"  A  man  who  dallies  so  freely  with  the  lives  of  others,  me- 
thinks,  should  possess  some  little  nerve  himself.  Twice  have 
I  nearly  fallen  by  your  treachery — once  by  the  hand  of  your 
hired  assassin,  and  again  this  day  by  your  own.  Twice  ere 
this  have  I  saved  your  worthless  life.  The  first  time  we  met 
I  dragged  you  senseless  from  the  sea.  Again,  though  un- 
known to  you,  I  rescued  you  from  the  tortures  of  the  savages. 
Twice  more  this  day  I  give  you  back  your  life  when  it  is 
forfeit.  I  will  not  kill  so  miserable  a  wretch.  Go,  and  re- 
pent :  but  have  a  care  that  you  cross  not  my  path  again.  If 
you  do,  as  God  is  my  witness,  I  will  not  spare  you.  Begone  ! 
I  say,  begone !" 

Don  Ferdinand  made  no  reply,  but  slowly  retreated  back- 
ward, as  though  afraid  to  trust  the  words  of  his  generous  rival. 
He  had  proceeded  in  this  manner  but  a  few  paces,  when  his 
face  suddenly  brightened,  and  his  whole  aspect  changed,  as 


A  HAND  TO  HAND  RECKONING.  I&47 

ne  discovered  a  couple  of  his  servants  approaching ;  and  at 
the  top  of  his  voice  he  cried  out : 

"Help!  ho— help!  help!" 

Warwick  at  first  supposed  that  the  Spaniard  must  have 
received  some  more  serious  injury  in  the  affray  than  was  appa- 
rent ;  and  started  forward  with  the  view  of  aiding  him.  But 
he  was  immediately  undeceived.  Casting  his  eye  to  the  right 
he  discovered  the  veritable  Ambrose,  who  had  beset  him  in 
New  York,  and  another  of  the  chevalier's  unscrupulous  me- 
nials, weapon  in  hand,  advancing  at  a  quick  pace  ;  and  he  per- 
ceived at  once  that  his  desperate  enemy,  whom  no  act  of  mag- 
nanimity could  touch,  proposed  still  a  closing  scene  to  the 
drama. 

He  was  well  aware  that  there  was  no  time  for  delay,  and 
he  made  none.  Quickly  returning  his  sword  to  its  scabbard, 
he  grappled  his  pistols,  and  deliberately  presenting  one  at  Don 
Ferdinand,  fired.  The  Spaniard  gave  a  shriek  and  fell. 
Turning  toward  his  new  assailants,  he  presented  the  other  ; 
and  the  three  fired  nearly  together,  but  without  effect.  Drop- 
ping his  useless  pistols,  the  American  now  advanced  with  his 
sword  ;  and  perceived  as  he  did  so,  that  before  he  could  bring 
the  enemy  to  close  quarters,  he  should  have  to  stand  another 
fire.  He  moved  rapidly,  in  part  with  the  purpose  of  distract- 
ing their  aim;  the  two  rascals  had  already  elevated  their 
weapons ;  but  ere  they  were  discharged,  the  young  Indian, 
Alwyn,  rushed  in  between  the  combatants.  Close  in  his  rear 
followed  the  athletic  Michael  Johnson,  who,  swinging  his 
rifle  with  his  brawny  arm,  as  though  it  had  been  a  toy,  brought 
the  belligerents  to  a  stand. 

"  How  now,  boys  !"  cried  the  old  man.     "  Warwick !  Am 
brose  !   what's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?" 

"  Our  master  is  slain,"  returned  Ambrose,  pointing  to  the 
spot  where  Don  Ferdinand  lay  writhing  on  the  ground. 

"  Go  to  his  assistance,"  said  Johnson.     "  You  won't  aid  him 


24&  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE   RED  MEN. 

any  in  his  journey  to  the  other  world  by  killin'  another  to  bear 
him  company;"  and  turning  to  Warwick,  he  continued  :  "this 
is  unfortunate,  boy.  How  did  it  happen  ?  but  there  is  no  time 
for  explanations  now,  while  blood  is  flowin'." 

Thus  saying  he  proceeded  himself  to  render  such  aid  to  the 
wounded  man  as  the  nature  of  the  case  would  permit.  War- 
wick, meanwhile,  remained  leaning  on  his  sword  in  a  painful 
state  of  anxiety. 

"  Alwyn,"  said  he,  "  I  much  regret  that  I  did  not  allow  you 
to  accompany  me  this  morning  as  you  requested.  A  witness 
to  all  that  has  transpired  would  just  at  present  be  a  great  relief 
to  my  feelings." 

"  My  arm  also  might  have  done  you  some  good,"  returned 
the  youth. 

"All  that  is  very  well  as  it  is,"  rejoined  Warwick.  "I 
have  escaped,  as  it  were  by  a  miracle,  unhurt.  You  came  at 
the  time  of  my  greatest  need,  when  I  was  littl.6  looking  for 
succor,  and  did  me  good  service.  But  how  happened  you 
here  at  all  ?  How  came  Michael  Johnson  here  just  at  the 
important  moment,  when  another  instant  would  have  probably 
terminated  my  career  forever  ?  Alwyn,  the  Great  Spirit 
watches  over  us  for  good." 

"  Soon  after  you  left  the  camp,"  replied  the  Indian,  "  Don 
Ferdinand  also  left,  followed  by  his  two  knaves.  Their  eyes 
looked  bloody,  and  I  was  afraid." 

"  Ha  !  judge  you  so  shrewdly?"  interrupted  Warwick. 

"  Their  own  faces  judged  them,"  returned  the  youth. 
"  Not  knowing  what  to  do,  I  went  to  good  Michael.  He 
said  we  had  better  follow  on  and  see  fair  play  ;  and  so  W6> 
came.^' 

Don  Ferdinand  was  found  to  be  severely,  but  Johnson  was 
of  the  opinion  not  mortally,  wounded.  The  old  man,  with  a 
skill  which  the  necessities  of  his  wandering  life  had  imparted, 
soon  succeeded  in  staunching  the  flow  of  blood  ;  and  having 


A  HAND   TO  HAND  RECKONINQ.  249 

dispatched  Alwyn  to  the  camp  for  more  help,  he  and  the 
two  servants  soon  constructed  a  rude  litter  of  limbs  bound 
together  with  bark,  on  which  the  chevalier  was  carefully- 
placed  ;  and  muttering  curses  as  he  went,  the  miserable  man 
■was  slowly  borne  up  the  hill  toward  the  encampment. 

11* 


>.<?>-;  {-(<.' 


i>^     !.    iVS- 


A  GHOSTLY  BRIDEGROOM.      TUMULT  IN  THB  OAMP. 


"  To  be  furious, 
Is  to  be  frightened  out  of  fear.' 


CHARLES  WARWICK  proceeded  to  the  camp  in  adrance  ; 
and  at  once  seeking  Don  Manuel,  related  to  him  the  oc- 
currences of  the  morning,  with  their  frightful  termination. 
The  blame  so  evidently  rested  with  the  assailant  and  victim, 
that  Don  Manuel,  while  he  deeply  regretted  the  melancholy 
catastrophe,  frankly  declared  he  could  see  nothing  to  cen- 
sure in  the  part  acted  by  the  American.  He  showed  him 
into  his  own  quarters,  and  himself  proceeded  out  to  meet  Don 
Ferdinand. 

The  servants  of  that  individual,  meanwhile,  under  the  di- 
rection of  JohnsQU,  were  slowly  bearing  him  up  the  narrow  and 
winding  footpath  which  led  to  the  fortress.  The  face  of  the 
chevalier  was  no  longer  flushed,  but  had  changed  to  a  deathly 
sallow  hue,  and  was  covered  with  large  drops  of  clammy  per- 
spiration. His  voice  was  faint  and  languid,  and  he  suffered 
much  from  pain  ;  yet  the  threatening  finger  of  death  seemed 
quite  insufficient  to  tame  his  fiery  passions.  His  eyes  gleamed 
with  the  fury  of  disappointed  revenge  ;  and  denunciations,  not 
only  of  his  rival,  but  of  all  those  around  him,  formed  the  bur- 
den of  the  broken  sentences  which  his  weak  state  permitted 
him  to  utter.  As  Don  Manuel  met  him  with  still  additional 
aid  to  assist  in  bearing  him  on,  he  covered  him  also  with  re- 
proaches ;  and  thus  he  continued  to  rave,  sometimes  at  one. 


A   GSOSTLY  BRlDEGROOM.^  251 

and  sometimes  at  another,  until  the  fortress  was  gained,  and 
he  was  submitted  into  the  hands  of  the  surgeon. 

Doctor  Oquetos  found  the  sword  cuts  of  little  consequence  ; 
he  shook  his  head,  however,  at  the  aspect  of  the  pistol  wound, 
and  declared  that  the  ball  had  been  very  injudiciously  directed. 
The  shot,  indeed,  was  of  an  alarming  nature,  the  bullet  having 
entered  the  right  side,  where  it  was  still  lodged  ;  and  the  loss  of 
blood  also  having  been  considerable.  On  examination,  however, 
it  was  found  that  both  the  distance  and  his  own  position  had 
been  much  in  the  Spaniard's  favor.  The  ball  was  extracted 
with-  some  trouble,  but  for  the  present  it  did  not  positively 
appear  that  any  important  organ  was  injured.  The  dressings 
were  applied;  and  worn  out  with  varying  excitements,  and 
loss  of  the  vital  tide,  the  chevalier  sunk  into  repose.  Don 
Manuel,  the  physician,  and  the  priest  remained  beside  him 
during  some  hours  of  tolerably  quiet  rest,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  Lady  Viola,  more  than  once,  kindly  came  in  per- 
son to  inquire  after  his  condition  and  prospects. 

He  awoke  sore  and  stiff,  but  with  the  vital  powers  refreshed. 
He  first  inspired  his  breath  deeply,  and  then  hallooed  to  ascer- 
tain the  strength  and  soundness  of  his  lungs.  Satisfied  by  the 
experiment  that  the  main  organs  of  life  were  untouched,  he 
indulged  in  a  smile  of  scorn.  He  laughed  outright ,  and  as 
he  hastily  reflected  and  matured  his  plans,  an  expression  of 
malicious  triumph  took  possession  of  his  features.  He  re- 
quested to  be  left  alone  with  Don  Manuel  ;  and  abruptly  de- 
manded of  him,  immovable  as  he  lay  on  his  couch,  the  imme- 
diate solemnization  of  his  nuptials  with  the  Lady  Viola. 

When  Don  Manuel  had  recovered  from  his  surprise,  ht 
represented  to  the  chevalier  that  he  was  in  no  condition  to  go 
through  with  a  ceremony  of  that  nature  ;  that  with  his  pres- 
ent prospects,  however  probable  his  ultimate  recovery  might 
be  deemed,  it  would  far  better  become  him  to  call  on  Father 
Antonio  to  administer  ghostly  comfort,  an  1  to  shrive  his  soul^ 


252  CAMP  FIEES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

than  to  feast  his  fancy  with  the  illusory  pleasures  and  ambi- 
tions of  the  world. 

But  Don  Ferdinand  was  not  thus  to  be  put  off.  He  had 
evidently  determined  on  the  present  denouement  of  the  one 
great  plot  and  object  of  his  life.  He  reminded  Don  Manuel 
of  the  sacred  original  contract  entered  into  by  himself  and  the 
older  Cassino,  which  could  not  be  broken  ;  to  its  repeated 
recognition  and  renewal  since  ;  to  the  many  sacrifices  he  him- 
self had  made  to  obtain  its  fulfillment ;  to  the  unexampled  pa- 
tience with  which  he  had  awaited  the  lady's  pleasure  ;  and  to 
the  conduct  of  Don  Manuel  in  putting  him  off  day  by  day, 
and  month  after  month,  with  puerile  excuses,  and  without  just 
cause. 

Finding  that  these  representations  failed  to  convince  Don 
Manuel,  the  chevalier  threw  off  what  little  of  the  mask  re- 
mained; and  with  all  the  bitter  recklessness  of  his  nature, 
drove  the  nail  directly  to  the  quick.  He  recurred  to  certain 
sums  of  money  advanced  to  him  at  the  time  of  his  flight  from 
Mexico ;  and  reminded  him  that  not  only  he  and  his  daughter, 
but  his  whole  household,  were  even  then,  day  by  day,  sub- 
sisting on  his  bounty.  |v 
,     Don  Manuel  was  stung  to  the  soul.  ' 

"  O  my  God!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  shall  I  say,  and 
whither  shall  I  fly  ?" 

He  wrung  his  hands,  and  strode  across  the  room  in  the 
agony  of  his  wounded  feelings.  Don  Ferdinand  seemed  to  be 
moved,  ^, 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said;  "and  find  an  apology  for  my 
language  in  the  cruel  hardships  of  my  situation.  I  have  left 
home,  and  country,  and  wealth,  and  power,  for  your  sake  and 
that  of  your  daughter,  my  affianced  wife  ;  and  here  am  I  now, 
after  j^ears  of  unrewarded  devotion,  prostrate,  and  nearly  slain 
by  the  hand  of  a  rival ;  who,  wherever  we  go,  follows  on  our 
track  like  a  bloodhound ;  like  a  very  savage  of  these  wilds, 


TEE  GHOSTLY  BRIDEGROOM.  253 

among  whom  he  had  his  origin,  and  of  whose  blood,  in  truth, 
it  is  asserted  he  is  ;  intent  on  stealing  from  me  the  affections 
of  my  bride.  And  furthermore,  Don  Manuel,  I  will  plainly 
add,  that  you  yourself,  singular  as  it  may  appear,  seem  to  hold 
out  encouragements  to  that  rival ;  and  it  is  whispered,  indeed, 
that  you  are  covertly  leagued  with  him  to  blast  my  hopes,  to 
fool,  and  to  dishonor  me." 

Don  Manuel  did  not  reply,  and  the  chevalier  continued : 

"  If  it  be  not  so,  why  keep  this  American  about  you  ?  Why 
daily  honor  him  above  all  others,  with  marked  attentions  and 
flattering  conversations  1  And  why  should  the  Lady  Viola 
hang  on  his  every  word  and  smile,  with  such  sickening  fond- 
ness, delighting  in  none  other  voice  or  look,  forgetting  her 
betrothal  and  the  presence  of  her  lord  ?" 

"  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,"  returned  Don  Manuel,  in  a 
grave  and  impressive  tone,  by  this  time  having  measurably  re- 
covered his  composure,  "  I  do  not  forget  my  obligations  to  you  r 
would  to  God  that  I  could ;  or  rather  that  I  might  cancel  them, 
by  repaying  you  all  you  have  forced  upon  me.  I  believe  I 
shall  do  so  yet.  But  for  this  one  day,  let  the  subject,  and  all 
other  exciting  topics,  be  adjourned.  I  can  not  but  tremble  at 
the  consequences  to  yourself,  should  this  conversation  be  con- 
tinued." 

"  Fear  not,"  said  the  chevalier.  "  I  feel  strong.  The 
assassin  failed  in  his  purpose.  I  shall  live  to  take  my  revenge 
of  him.  Say  that  you  will  at  once  dismiss  him,  or  that  you 
have  done  so  alfeady :  but  wherever  he  may  hide,  I  will,  at 
some  future  period,  unkennel  him.  Dog  of  an  Englishman,  or 
American,  or  Indian,  as  the  case  may  be,  Cassino  will  repay 
him  yet.     Where  is  he  nowi" 

"  Captain  Warwick   is   still   in   the   camp,"  replied   Don 
•Manuel. 

,     "Send  him   away  instantly!"  said   Don   Ferdinand,  im- 
^periously. 

■v: 


254  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN: 


"  Dismiss  all  those  questions  for  to-day,  I  beseech  you,"  re- 
turned Don  Manuel. 

"Send  him  off!  send  him  off!"  continued  the  chevalier, 
raising  his  voice.  "I  offer  it  as  a  compromise.  This  day, 
this  hour,  send  him  away,  or  give  me  Viola.  I  will. have  one 
or  the  other :  and  I  will  not  any  longer  be  trifled  with." 

"  Captain  Charles  Warwick,"  said  Don  Manuel,  deliberately, 
"  shall  never  again  be  treated  by  me  with  disrespect.  If  I  am 
indebted  to  you,  Don  Ferdinand,  for  gold,  we  are  all  indebted 
to  him  for  our  lives :  and  while  I  have  food  or  shelter,  he  shall 
be  welcome.     He  will  go  or  stay,  as  he  likes." 

*'  Don  Manuel !"  cried  the  chevalier,  greatly  excited,  "  I  tell 
you  again  I  am  not  to  be  braved.  I  am  a  desperate  man  ;  and 
you  have  made  me  so.  I  warn  you  in  season :  the  conse- 
querces  be  on  your  own  head !" 

For  a  moment  Don  Manuel's  eyes  flashed  with  indignation. 
Checking  himself,  however,  he  said : 

"  Your  situation,  young  man,  must  furnish  an  apology  for 
your  language.  For  the  present  I  leave  you,  with  the  hope 
that  quiet  and  reflection  will  benefit  both  your  body  and  your 
mind.     To-morrow,  perhaps — " 

"  To-morrow !"  echoed  Don  Ferdinand,  raising  himself  on 
his  couch.  "You  would  blind  me  while  you  consummate 
your  plans.  I  am  strong  to-day !"  and  again  he  made  the 
cabin  ring  with  his  halloo ! 

But  the  effort  was  too  much.  The  blood  started  afresh 
from  his  side,  and  he  sunk  back  on  his  bed  in  a  swoon. 
Doctor  Oquetos  was  recalled ;  and  by  the  time  his  skill  had 
succeeded  in  restoring  a  partial  animation,  Don  Manuel  was 
hastily  summoned  without.  Thfe  whole  fortress  was  in  com- 
motion. Don  Ferdinand's  immediate  followers  were  threaten- 
ing a  mutiny :  and  while  the  Spaniard  was  addressing  some 
hurried  inquiries  to  Johnson,  cries  of  revenge  for  their  lord, 
and  death  to  his  murderer,  already  saluted  his  ears.     He  at 


THS  0E08TLY  BRIDEGROOM.  255 

once  ordered  a  call  to  be  beat,  and  the  men,  accustomed  to 
obedience,  slowly  and  sullenly  came  together. 

Near  one  half  of  the  forces  were  the  immediate  retainers 
of  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino.  Of  these,  some,  like  our  ac- 
quaintance Ambrose,  had  been  his  vassals,  or  those  of  his 
father,  from  birth.  On  his  soil  they  first  saw  the  light ;  and 
had  always  subsisted  from  his  hand.  They  came  to  him  as  a 
part  of  his  patrimonial  estates  :  and  the  fealty  they  acknowl- 
edged was  that  of  the  serfs  of  the  middle  ages.  Ignorant 
and  unscrupulous,  his  will  to  them  was  law.  To  revere  him 
and  to  serve  him,  to  fight  for  him,  or  to  revenge  him,  furnished 
them,  perhaps,  with  the  loftiest  subjects  of  emulation  which 
the  circumstances  of  their  lives  permitted.  Besides,  it  was 
well  known  to  every  member  of  the  camp  that  Don  Manuel 
was  a  fallen  man :  and  by  some  means  it  was  equally  well 
understood,  that  on  Don  Ferdinand  were  the  pay  and  rations 
of  all  depending.  It  therefore  needed,  in  the  present  aspect 
of  affairs,  nothing  more  than  an  active  tongue,  and  that  Am- 
brose-possessed, to  stir  up  a  tumult  in  the  camp. 

Don  Manuel  was  glad  to  see  that  there  was  nothing  like 
hesitation  or  doubt  on  the  part  of  his  own  followers.  He  had 
expected  as  much ;  but  the  confirmation  of  the  fact  cheered 
him  in  the  midst  of  his  perplexities.  He.  cast  his  eyes  over 
the  assembled  body  of  men  with  renewed  courage,  and  ad- 
dressed them  with  confidence.  He  informed  them  that  Don 
Ferdinand,  if  he  could  be  kept  quiet,  was  in  no  immediate 
danger :  that  with  proper  care  his  speedy  recovery  was  to  be 
anticipated  as  certain.  He  alluded  to  the  affray  in  which  the 
chevalier  had  been  wounded,  with  regret.  It  had  originated, 
however,  in  a  private  matter,  with  which  they  had  nothing  to 
do.  They  all  knew,  or  ought  to  know,  that  Captain  Warwick 
was  as  honorable  as  he  was  brave :  and  there  was  no  reason 
whatever  to  suppose  that  any  improper  advantage  had  been 
taken  of  their  master.     But  he  reserved  it  wholly  to  himself 


256  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEIT. 

to  inquire  into  the  circumstances,  and  to  pass  judgment :  and 
pledged  himself  that  impartial  justice  should  be  done. 

With  this  assurance  he  dismissed  them  to  their  several 
quarters ;  promising  them,  at  the  same  time,  condign  punish- 
ment, as  the  reward  of  any  further  mutinous  behavior.  The 
men  slowly  but  peaceably  dispersed. 


jtn  %\xxiU'i\xtt. 


A    PABTING.     TO    THE    WOODS  "AGAIN. 


"  I  leave  the  Hglit  of  eyea  and  light  of  love, 
For  night,  and  stars,  and  mountain  BoUtudes.'' 


WARWICK,  meanwhile,  remained  in  Don  Manuel's  quar- 
ters. The  Lady  Viola  had  Jieard  from  his  lips  the  de- 
tails of  the  morning's  rencounter;  and  also  of  his  determination, 
which  that  affair  had  hastened,  to  quit  the  Spanish  camp. 
She  listened  to  the  account  he  gave  of  the  affray,  with  visible 
agitation  ;  but  when  he  spoke  of  his  departure,  she  turned 
white  as  chiseled  marble.  She  essayed  to  speak,  but  failing 
in  the  attempt,  abruptly  left  the  room. 

Uncertain  as  to  the  exact  impression  which  a  knowledge 
of  the  catastrophe  had  made  on  the  Lady  Viola ;  uncertain 
whether  he  should  see  her  again,  to  bid  her  adieu,  or,  indeed, 
whether  it  were  wise  to  attempt  it,  he  awaited  impatiently  the 
return  of  Don  Manuel ;  but  the  Spaniard  came  not :  yet  in 
his  place  appeared  one  equally  welcome.  It  was  Michael 
Johnson,  who,  with  his  frank  and  sympathizing  voice  and  face, 
invited  and  received  his  fullest  confidence.  He  unburdened 
his  perplexed  heart  to  him,  and  was  glad  to  know  that  his 
conduct  in  the  past,  and  his  plans  for  the  future,  though  fijaught 
with  considerable  personal  danger  to  himself,  met  with  the  old 
man's  approbation.  The  cheering  words  of  the  veteran  gave 
him  renewed  confidence  and  courage.  He  bade  him  trust  in 
God  when  man  and  nature  should  fail  him,  in  the  lonely  forest, 
surrounded  by  hostile  savages,  as  in  the  camp ;  and  told  him 


258  CAMP  FIRES  OB   TEE  RED  MEN. 


still  to  hope,  even  in  his  love.  With  the  inspiring  voice  of  a 
prophet  he  assured  him  that  the  Lady  Viola  and  Don  Fer- 
dinand would  never  be  united,  and  that  the  final  crisis  of  that 
affair  was  not  distant. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  disturbance  with- 
out, already  noticed ;  and  Warwick  perc^ved,  with  a  deep 
feeling  of  regret,  that  his  name  was  coupled  with  the  turbulent 
movement..  He  was  now  more  than  ever  convinced  of  the 
propriety  of  his  decision.  He  could  not  remain  a  guest  where 
he  had  become  a  source  of  discord  and  violence  ;  and  though 
well  aware  that  of  right  he  might  claim  the  protection  of  Do'n 
Manuel  to  the  last  extremity,  and  that  manifold  perils,  and 
perhaps  destruction,  awaited  his  path  thence,  in  whatever 
direction  he  might  go,  still  he  did  not  hesitate.  He  would 
become  a  sacrifice  himself,  if  necessary,  but  he  would  not  ac- 
cept any  such  fatal  offering  at  the  hands  of  others. 

Order  having  at  length  been  restored  in  the  encampment, 
Don  Manuel  entered  his  quarters,  and  Warwick  lost  no  time 
in  announcing  to  him  his  determination.  Contrary  to  his 
hopes,  and  almost  to  his  expectations,  the  declaration  was 
received  by  the  Spaniard  with  evident  disappointment  and 
chagrin. 

"  I  can  not  listen  to  the  proposition,"  said  he.  "  My  feel- 
ings, my  honor,  are  at  stake  in  this  question.  The  sentiments 
I  entertain  toward  you,  and  the  debt  of  gratitude  common  to 
us  all,  by  no  means  excepting  Don  Ferdinand,  alike  forbid  it. 
It  shall  be  my  business  to  maintain  the  peace  of  my  establish- 
ment ;  and  if  hot  heads  like  the  chevalier  choose  to  pick  un- 
seemly quarrels,  they  must  take  the  consequences."  :^ 

Finding  the  attempt  vain  to  remove  the  Spaniard's  scruples, 
Warwick  ceased  to  argue  the  point.  He  knew  that  Don 
Manuel  possessed  the  affections  of  the  camp,  but  he  also  knew 
that  Ferdinand  had  a  sufficient  number  devoted  to  his  interests 
for  purposes  of  mischief;  and  if  a  collision  between  the  two 


VIOLA  AN^D   WABWIdK.  259 

* 

chiefs  (which  he  thought  he  foresaw)  must  come,  he  perceived 
no  good  reason  for  hastening  it,  or  for  himself  becoming  the 
hinge  on  which  it  should  turn.  And  now,  could  he  only  un- 
bosom his  soul  to  the  Lady  Viola — could  he,  indeed,  but  bid 
her  that  affectionate  adieu  which  an  intimate  friendship  even 
would  dictate  and  sanction,  he  felt  that  sustained  still  by  a 
latent  hope,  a  trust  in  the  omnipotency  of  justice  and  of  love, 
he  could  depart  in  peace.  But  governed,  as  he  desired  every 
act  of  his  life  should  be,  by  a  strict  rule  of  right,  he  was  un- 
certain as  to  the  course  he  ought  to  pursue.  Satisfied  that 
the  feelings  of  both  father  and  daughter  were  with  him  instead 
of  his  rival,  and  that,  could  he  only  sunder  the  bonds  which 
bound  them  to  the  chevalier,  they  would  bless  him,  he  was 
still  anxious  to  spare  Viola,  and  doubtful  of  himself,  and  doubt- 
ful of  the  extent  to  which  he  might  go  with  propriety  and 
honor. 

The  shades  of  darkness  were  just  embrowning  the  atmos- 
phere, rendering  objects  shadowy  and  indistinct,  and  Warwick 
stood  in  the  open  air,  in  the  little  unoccupied  space  connected 
with  the  quarters  of  Don  Manuel.  An  indifferent  observer 
might  have  supposed  that  he  was  merely  enjoying  the  bland 
air  of  the  evening  ;  one  acquainted  with  his  determination 
might  have  deemed  that  he  was  regarding  the  dying  day  as  a 
thing  he  might  never  behold  again,  and  taking  a  last  look  at 
tent  and  fortress-wall  as  objects  which,  the  sense  of  security 
they  imparted,  had  imbued  with  unusual  charms.  But  though 
his  eye  wandered  over  the  different  points  of  the  works  and 
the  landscape,  turned  upon  the  heavens,  and  rested  on  the 
white  face  of  the  moon,  riding  aloft  calm  and  cold  as  a  spheroid 
of  ice,  his  mind  was  occupied  with  a  very  different  subject. 
There  was  room  in  it  but  for  one  thought,  and  that  was  Viola  ; 
Iknd  his  soul  was  breathing  forth  those  sentiments  to  the  spirits 
^of  the  air,  and  to  them  whispering  those  passionate  adieus 
which  he  dared  not  utter  in  her  presence.     Suddenly,  without 


260  CAMP  FIBES  OF  THE  BED  MEJfT. 

a  sound,  but  with  a  dim  consciousness  on  his  part  of  her  ap- 
proach, Viola  stood  beside  him.  In  the  uncertain  light  he  yet 
knew  that  she  was  ghastly  pale,  and  that  her  eyes  were  swol- 
len and  red  with  weeping. 

"  Sir  Warwick,"  said  she,  in  that  peculiar,  low,  calm  tone 
which  betokens  the  agitation  it  is  intended  to  hide,  "  are  you 
still  of  the  mind  to  leave  us  ?" 

"  Such  is  my  intent,  lady,"  replied  Warwick. 

"  You  once  said  to  me,"  continued  the  Lady  Viola,  "  that 
your  familiarity  with  these  forests  and  their  wild  inhabitants 
rendered  you  comparatively  safe  among  them.  I  fear  it  is  no 
longer  so,  since  you  can  not  have  failed  to  arouse  the  hostility 
of  the  natives  by  your  defense  of  us.  Indeed,  Alwyn  has  in- 
formed me  that  were  they  to  get  you  in  their  power,  nothing 
would  save  you  from  their  vengeance." 

"  It  is  my  intention  and  my  hope,"  returned  Warwick,  "  to 
avoid  them.  With  the  knowledge  I  possess  of  the  country 
and  their  habits,  1  feel  a  strong  certainty  that  I  shall  be  able 
to  do  so ;  if  not,  I  have  yet,  I  think,  some  friends  among  them." 

"  If  you  must  meet  this  danger,"  said  Viola,  "  if  it  can  not 
be  avoided,  we  can  only  rest  the  event  with  Heaven  ;  and  it 
will  well  become  those  whom  you  have  so  deeply  served  to 
pray  fervently  for  your  safety.  The  house  of  Don  Manuel 
Torrillo,  Sir  Warwick,  owe  you  that  which  they  can  never 
repay  ;  and  however  feebly  we  may  manifest  our  gratitude,  T 
trust  you  will  do  us  the  justice  to  believe  that  in  our  hearts 
we  give  proper  place  to  those  sentiments  which  words  at  best 
are  but  slow  to  express — that  we  look  on  our  iVmerican  friend 
as  one  to  whom  God  has  given  great  nobility  of  soul,  as  one 
whose  kindness  never  tires,  and  whose  courage  and  blood 
purchased  the  safety  of  strangers  whom  it  were  far  better  for 
him  that  he  had  never  known.  Your  connection  with  our  ill- 
starred  fortunes.  Sir  Warwick,  has  brought  you  nothing  but 
indignity  and  stripes.     Oh,  if  you  could  reach  your  friends 


VIOLA  AfTD   WAnWICK,  261 

again  in  New  York  in  safety,  it  were  better,  far  better,  that 
you  go,  and  leave  us  here  to  our  fate." 

"  Dear  lady,"  returned  Warwick,  "  were  I  not  assured  by 
the  unfortunate  occurrences  of  this  day  that  I  could  no  longer 
be  of  service  to  you  ;  that  my  farther  presence,  instead  of 
contributing  to  your  security,  would  only  endanger  it,  no  con- 
siderations would  induce  me  to  leave  you.  I  go  for  your 
sakes,  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  Sir  Warwick,  you  say  well.  It  is  needless  to  attempt  to 
gloss  over  the  matter ;  it  is  vain  to  endeavor  to  cover  it  with 
a  vail.  You  have  shed  your  blood  for  us  ;  for  us  you  have 
made  sacrifices  without  number  or  stint;  and  now,  when, "as 
it  seems,  we  may  need  you  no  longer,  we  in  effect  bid  you 
begone,  and  turn  you  out  alone  to  brave  those  terrible  dangers 
from  which  we  have  so  narrowly  and  mercifully  escaped.  O 
that  you  but  knew  the  cruel  destiny  that  binds  us  !  O  that 
you  might  read  and  understand  our  hearts  !" 

"  Viola,  dear  Viola  \  You  distress  yourself  unnecessarily* 
Circumstances  entirely  beyond  the  control  of  your  father  or 
yourself  have  rendered  it  improper,  or  at  leas't  unwise,  for  me 
longer  to  remain  your  guest.  Therefore,  I  go.  But  grieve 
not,  and  fear  not,  dear  madam.  The  great  God  is  over  us  all, 
to  protect  us.  I  tear  myself  from  you  ;  and  the  expectation 
that  you  may  be  benefited  is  my  only  consolation  for  the  sacri- 
fice ;  and  to  this,  Viola,  may  I  add  the  hope,  that  when  away 
I  shall  not  be  forgotten  ?" 

*'  You  may  !  you  may  !"  quickly  returned  the  distressed  and 
agitated  girl. 

"  Would,  Viola,  that  I  might  say  more.  Within  the  hour  I 
go,  and  may  never  see  you  again.  Must  I  depart  without  one 
word  on  the  great  subject  of  my  thoughts — -a  subject  which  I 
am  powerless  to  dismiss,  which  is  wedded  to  my  being  as  a 
part  of  itself,  and  must  ever  thus  remain  ?  Would  to  God  that 
this  bosom  were  laid  open  that  you  might  know  its  feelings  ' 


263  "  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEF  RED  MEK 


And  why  may  they  not  be  spoken  1  There  is,  in  truth,  noth- 
ing natural  or  divine  to  forbid  it.  Viola  !  I  love  you  ;  ardently, 
fondly,  truly  !  I  would  clasp  you  to  my  heart,  and  cherish  you 
there- forever !" 

Sudden  and  impassioned  as  was  this  declaration,  it  proved 
too  much  for  the  delicate  nerves  of  the  Lady  Viola,  already 
strained  to  their  utmost  tension.  Her  head  drooped,  her 
breathing  was  interrupted,  she  tottered,  and  would  have  fallen 
at  the  feet  of  her  lover,  had  he  not  supported  her.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  was  circled  in  his  arms,  and  her  head  lay  passively 
upon  his  breast. 

"  Viola !  dear  Viola !"  said  Warwicjt,  in  alarm.  "  Have  I 
frightened  you  ?  Forgive  me !  I  would  not  shock  you,  I 
would  not  agitate  your  feelings  :  but  this  moment,  perhaps,  is 
the  very  pivot  of  my  life.  I  ask  no  avowal  of  any  kind  from 
you.  I  shall  continue  to  watch  over  you  as  the  mother  over 
her  child :  I  must  continue  to  love  you,  for  I  jfind  myself 
powerless  to  dismiss  you  from  my  heart :  and  I  shall  look  to 
the  great  unknown  future  and  its  changes,  dear  Viola;  and  not 
without  hope." 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  much,  Charles,"  said  the  Lady  Viola, 
faintly,  releasing  herself  from  his  support ;  "  you  should  have 
spared  me  this.  Know  you  not,  indeed,  that  T  am  the  betrothed 
of  another  ?  But  go,  now :  I  forgive  you.  After  this,  it  is 
doubtless  better  that  we  should  part." 

"  And  can  you,  Viola,  add  your  forgiveness  for  all  the  yn^ 
fortunate  events  of  this  day  V  ,^^.    _ 

"  I  do— I  do." 

"  And  have  you  no  memento  that  I  can  look  upon  when  cold 
and  interminable  leagues  divide  us  V 

*'  I  had  brought  this  ring,  Charles ;  but  I  know  not  now  if  a 
gift  would  be  proper  from  me.  Yes,  it  shall  be  yours  :  it  was 
my  mother's,  and  surely  may  be  given  to  him  who  saved  the 
life  of  her  child." 


rrOLA  AND   WARWICK.  263 


Warwick  took  the  little  hand  which  presented  the  offering 
in  his,  and  pressed  it  passionately  to  his  lips.  Without  another 
word,  but  with  one  wild,  prolonged,  and  despairing  look,  the 
lovers  separated. 

It  was  now  fully  dark.  The  American  found  Alwyn  and 
Michael  Johnson  awaiting  him  at  the  gate  of  the  fortress ; 
and  the  three  passed  out  in  silence.  Alwyn  was  to  be  his 
companion ;  and  Johnson,  loth  to  part  from  one  who  had 
wound  himself  so  deeply  into  his  affections,  accompanied 
them  for  some  distance  down  the  mountain.  Finally  they 
sat  down  in  the  desolate  but  beautiful  wood,  beautiful  even  in 
the  gloom  of  night,  and  there  prolonged  their  adieus  for  an . 
hour  or  more ;  during  which  the  past  and  the  future  were 
freely  and  narrowly  canvassed.  At  last  the  old  man  arose. 
He  felt  that  the  flying  hours  might  be  important  to  his  young 
friend.  Warwick  sent  a  kind  message  of  farewell  to  Don 
Manuel ;  and  left  it  to  Johnson  to  mollify  his  feelings  and  con- 
vince him  of  the  propriety  of  the  step  he  had  taken.  The  old 
man  wrung  his  hand  convulsively  at  parting. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  boy  !"  said  he.  "  The  Lord  God  Je- 
hovah bless,  and  keep  you  from  harm  in  the  wilderness  !  Be 
watchful  and  prudent,  and  a  brighter  day  will  come ;  for  it  is 
not  in  nater  that  night  should  last  always.  Farewell,  my  boy, 
farewell !" 

Warwick  and  his  young  Indian  attendant  slowly  and  dis- 
consolately, but  yet  not  wholly  comfortless,  kept  on  down  the 
mountain,  while  the  veteran  Johnson  returned  to  the  camp. 


THE    FADING    LILY.     THE    ISLAND  AND    ITS    SYLVAN    HAUNTS. 


"  Friendships  that  now  in  death  are  hushed, 
And  young  affections  broken  chain, 
And  hopes  that  fate  too  quickly  crushed. 
In  memory  live  again." 


SEVERAL, days  passed  in  comparative  q«iet  at  the  Spanish 
quarters.  t)oi\  Manuel,  who  was  greatly  disturbed  at  the 
abrupt  departure  of  Charles  Warwick,  had,  in  a  good  degree, 
recovered  his  equanimity  ;  while  the  chevalier  Cassino,  sooth- 
ed by  the  event  which  had  distressed  his  colleague,  professed 
a  laudable  submission  to  the'fates,  and  was  rapidly  recovering 
from  his  wounds.  The  indications  at  the  mine  were  full  of 
encouragement;  the  few  Indians  who  presented  themselves 
seemed  friendly  and  well  disposed,  and  kept  the  carap  pretty 
well  supplied  with  corn  and  vegetables  ;  game  was  abundant ; 
and,  in  short,  every  thing  about  the  fortress,  on  the  mountain, 
and  in  the  valleys  beyond,  wore  an  aspect  of  security  and 
peace ;  and  with  the  American,  every  element  of  discord 
seemed  to  have  departed.  The  Lady  Viola  alone  appeared 
an  exception  to  the  general  cheerfulness.  But  patient  and  re- 
tiring by  nature,  her  disquietude  manifested  itself  more  in  the 
increased  pallor  of  her  complexion,  and  the  loss  of  elasticity 
in  her  step,  than  in  her  words  or  actions.  She  was  still  kind 
and  gentle  as  before,  and  strove  hard,  especially  when  in  her 
father's  presence,  for  that  life  and  buoyancy  of  spirits  which 
had  fled  away,  she  knew  not  whither,  and  would  not  come 
b«ck  at  her  call. 


TITE  FADING  LILY.  265 


Don  Manuel  noted  with  pain  the  daily  change  in  his  child ; 
and  strove  to  occupy  her  mind  and  to  amuse  her  by  the  con- 
trivance of  every  little  pleasure  which  their  isolated  situation 
would  permit.  Formerly  he  would  have  considered  her 
malady  the  effect  of  hardships,  or  of  the  exchange  of  the  mel- 
low airs  of  her  father-land  for  the  rougher  breezes  of  the 
north :  but  the  experience  of  the  last  few  months  had  opened 
to  him  several  new  and  important  chapters  in  the  history  of 
the  female  heart.  He  watched  his  fading  flower  day  by  day; 
and  as  he  perceived,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts,  a  settled  gloom 
gathering  on  her  features,  or  as  some  unwilling  glance  of  her 
eye  exposed  to  him  the  fearful  forebodings  which  lay  heavy 
at  her  heart,  he  referred  her  ailment  to  the  proper  source— to 
disgust  of  life  at  the  prospect  of  a  union  with  Don  Ferdinand 
de  Cassino;  and  regrets,  though  she  might  not  own  them  even 
to  herself,  for  one  no  longer  present. 

The  chivalrous  Ruby  O'Brady,  with  a  woman's  quickness, 
also  understood  the  nature  of  the  pangs  which  were  rending 
the  breast  of  her  mistress ;  and  did  every  thing  possible  in 
her  simple  way  to  soothe  and  encourage  her.  In  her  anxious 
endeavor,  she  even  ventured  to  allude  to  the  subject  of  her 
mistress'  disquiet,  in  the  forlorn  expectation  that  she  might  be 
able  to  revive  the  wick  of  hope,  which  she  perceived  flicker- 
ing and  about  to  expire.  But  the  favorite  attendant  was  dis- 
appointed. The  delicate  question  was  forbidden ;  and  Ruby 
found  herself  obliged  to  rel}^  on  indirect  eflx)rts  to  accomplish 
her  benevolent  purposes. 

Shut  out  from  the  ordinary  occupations  and  pleasures  of 
life,  there  was  still  much  in  the  wild  scenery  which  surrounded 
the  fortress  to  interest  a  mind  capable  of  appreciating  the 
beauty  and  grandeur  of  nature.  These  yet,  while  other  sour- 
ces of  enjoyment  had  faded,  retained  their  hold  on  the  Lady 
Viola :  and  a  ramble  on  the  mountain,  or  in  the  vales  below, 
^as  aworg  the  Ihost  successful  of  the  expedients  devised  io 
""""   ^"^   '        '   ^   "    "  12' 


266  CAMP  FIRES   OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

withdraw  her  from  herself.  The  songs  of  the  birds,  and  the 
gambols  of  the  deer,  which,  in  this  primitive  region,  were  fear- 
lessly performed  in  her  path;  the  gathering  of  wild  flowers, 
and  the  climbing  of  the  rocks  where  the  sweetest  ones  grew ; 
the  listening  to  the  music  of  a  waterfall  in  some  glen ;  or  a 
stroll  along  the  embowered  banks  of  the  Susquehanna,  served, 
at  least  for  the  hour,  to  dim  the  recollection  of  the  sorrows 
which  they  could  not  heal.  The  little  island,  already  men- 
tioned, lying  so  dreamily  on  the  bosom  of  the  river,  with  its 
gentle  sloping  shores  and  quiet  shades,  which  looked  like 
proper  haunts  for  the  naiads  and  the  fauns,  had  often  at- 
tracted her  attention.  Don  Manuel  had  it  explored  ;  and  the 
report  being  favorable,  an  expedition  was  determined  to  its 
shadowy  retreats. 

Don  Ferdinand,  though  still  feeble,  was  able  to  make  one 
of  the  party.  On  reaching  the  Susquehanna,  it  was  found 
that  the  slight  float  and  poles  already  prepared  were  amply 
sufEcient  to  convey  them  in  safety  across  the  narrow  channel 
which  intervened  between  the  mainland  and  the  islet.  As 
they  landed  on  its  pebbly  beach,  and  the  fairy  prospect  burst 
upon  their  view,  a  glow  of  pleasure  diffused  itself  through  the 
dullest  breast ;  and  each  disposed  himself  for  the  enjoyment 
of  the  hour.  Michael  Johnson  and  Hugh  O'Brady  secured 
the  craft  on  which  depended  their  return ;  while  Solyman, 
hale  of  his  wounds,  and  proud  that  they  had  been  gained 
in  the  defense  of  his  mistress,  exhibited  a  series  of  little 
gallantries  addressed  to  his  compatriot  on  that  memorable 
occasion,  the  maiden  Ruby.  Doctor  Oquetos  and  Father 
Antonio,  without  loss  of  time,  struck  off*  into  their  accustomed 
field ;  and  were  soon  at  profound  loggerheads  on  some  question 
of  science  connected  with  the  island,  and  wandering  alone, 
without  regard  to  the  rest,  they  knew  not  whither. 

"  This  is  indeed  a  lovely  spot,"  said  the  Lady  Viola,  gazing 
around  with  a  momentary  rapture  as  they  gained  the  ^height 


TffE  FADnrG  LTI.Y.  267 


of  the  bank.     "  Here,  inethinks,  could  the  weary  of  life  find 
rest,  as  in  the  paradise  of  old." 

The  island  contained  perhaps  some  fifty  acres  of  rich  al- 
luvial ;  and  the  profuse  vegetation  which  it  produced  was  of 
the  most  verdant  hue ;  and  varied  in  kind  by  the  thousand  dif- 
ferent seeds  and  roots,  which  the  floods  in  successive  ages 
had  deposited  on  its  shores.  The  trees  were  few  in  number, 
but  majestic  in  size.  In  form  and  appearance  they  were  quite 
different  from  their  spear-like  fellows  of  the  forest.  Each 
massive  trunk  supported  a  wide  wilderness  of  its  own,  witl* 
horizontal  branches,  often  of  the  size  of  goodly  trees  them- 
selves. There  stood  a  venerable  sycamore,  stretching  aloft 
its  bare  white  arms,  as  though  deprecating  the  winds  and  the 
lightnings ;  by  its  side  grew  the  humble  thorn  ;  and  a  little 
way  beyond  was  a  delicious  grove  of  alder,  hazel,  and  sweet 
birch.  There  a  wide-spread  weeping-willow,  with  graceful 
curves,  bowed  its  plenteous  foliage  almost  to  the  ground,  and 
waved  its  thread-like  boughs  to  the  stirring  of  the  gentlest 
breeze.  Again,  a  towering  elm  stretched  proudly  to  the  sky; 
and  pendent  from  its  top  hung  a  vine,  which  for  many  years, 
with  the  patient  instinct  of  its  nature,  had  been  occupied  vt 
climbing  up  the  toilsome  ascent ;  but  at  length,  the  de 
sired  altitude  having  been  attained,  and  its  tendrils  and  stalki 
firmly  clasped  to  the  topmost  branches  of  its  gallant  sup 
port,  it  had  scornfed  and  thrown  off  its  lower  holds,  and 
now  hung  free  to  the  root,  creaking  as  it  swayed  to  and 
fro. 

*'  Yes,  truly  this  is  a  beautiful  spot,"  said  Don  Manuel,  in 
reply  to  the  observation  of  his  daughter.  "  Not  only  might 
the  anchorite  here  find  a  fitting  retreat,  but  the  man  of  the 
world  could  hardly  fail  to  be  fascinated  by  this  happy  isle,  and 
charmed  into  a  love  of  solitude  and  nature.  But  see  those 
clusters  of  the  wild  grape,  Viola,  and  those  plums.  When 
they  ripen  I  will  have  them  gathered  and  added  to  our  stores, 


S68  CAMP  Fluids  OF  Tim  BED  MEN. 

and  so  cheat  the  birds  of  a  repast  which,  perhaps,  they  have 
enjoyed  undisturbed  for  centuries." 

"Oh,  what  a  tiny,  beautiful  deer!"  exclairried  the  Lady  Viola, 
pointing  a  little  way  off  to  a  hillock  where  a  fawn  was  grazing. 

"  It  seems  to  be  alone,"  said  Johnson.  "  Perhaps  I  can 
catch  it ;  shall  I  try,  lady  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  good  Michael,"  returned  Viola ;  "  but  do 
not  hurt  it." 

The  conversation  ceased,  in  order  to  witness  the  result  of 
the  experiment  which  the  old  hunter  proposed  ;  while  he,  ac- 
customed to  the  habits  of  the  animal  and  the  wiles  of  the  hunt, 
accomplished  his  purpose  before  they  were  hardly  aware  he 
had  commenced.  Concealing  himself  in  some  bushes  near 
by,  he  imitated  the  call  of  its  dam,  when  the  little  animal  with 
a  bound  threw  itself  almost  into  his  arms.  Securing  it  ten- 
derly with  a  handkerchief,  he  placed  it  a  moment  after,  its 
eyes  tearful  and  its  heart  throbbing  as  though  ready  to  burst 
from  its  breast,  at  the  Lady  Viola's  feet. 

She  admired  the  graceful  form  and  taper  ears  of  her  sen- 
sitive captive,  and  passing  her  hand  fondly  over  its  smooth 
and  variegated  skin,  attempted  to  sooth  it  with  kind  words  and 
gentle  endearments. 

"  I  would  gladly  make  a  pet  of  you,  my  pretty  prisoner," 
said  she,  '•  were  you  not  so  fearful.  But  as  it  is,  Michael,  I 
think  we  shall  have  to  give  it  its  freedom  again." 

"  As  you  please,  lady,"  returned  the  veteran  ;  "  but  under 
your  kind  care  it  would  soon  forget  its  fears,  and  would  show 
an  affection  in  its  little  nater  which  might  shame  many  a  wiser 
creater.  It  seems  to  have  lost  its  mother,  which  most  likely 
has  been  shot  by  some  of  our  thoughtless  sodger  boys  to  fur- 
nish food  for  the  camp,  and  probably  would  be  better  off  with 
you  than  to  be  left  alone,  so  young,  to  shift  for  itself." 

The  animal  was  accordingly  given  into  the  hands  of  Soly- 
►"  man  to  conduct  to  the  camp. 


THE  MYSTERY  AND  BEAUTY  OF  LOGICAL  ARGUMENTATION.      A  SURPRISE. 
"  Who  shall  decide  when  doctors  disagree  ?" 

HAVING  rambled  over  a  large  part  of  the  island  with  much 
satisfaction  and  delight,  on  turning  a  little  thicket  the  ears 
of  the  party  were  suddenly  saluted  with  a  loud  jargon  of 
words  ;  and  on  approaching  the  spot  whence  the  sounds  pro- 
ceeded, they  discovered  Doctor  Oquetos  and  Father  Antonio 
sitting  on  the  grass,  and  tilting  at  each  other  more  lustily  than 
ever,  in  the  bloodless  but  never-ending  tourney  of  argumenta- 
tion. The  excitement  between  the  veteran  gladiators  was  so 
great  that  all  felt  curious  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  im 
portant  questions  which  had  produced  it,  and  became  interested 
listeners. 

"  I  must  maintain,"  said  Doctor  Oquetos,  taking  occasion 
of  so  large  an  increase  of  auditors  to  reiterate  his  point,  "  that 
these  globular  vegetable  substances  which  I  hold  in  my  hand 
are  veritable  peas  ;  yes,  culinary  peas  ;  and  cultivation,  rever- 
end sir,  would  soon  demonstrate  the  identity." 

"  I  can  not  admit  the  correctness  of  your  position,"  returned 
Father  Antonio.  "  As  I  observed  before,  these  vegetables  are 
bitter  and  unpalatable  ;  and  it  were  insulting  nature  and  the 
Creator  to  suppose  that  an  article  of  nutrition  so  important  to 
the  human  and  lower  animal  economy  as  peas  came  from  the 
Divine  hand  in  such  a  crude  and  imperfect  condition." 

"  Cultivation  !  cultivation  !"  shouted  the  unyielding  doctor, 
"  would  soon  bring  them  to  their  beautiful  proportions,  their 


270  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

proper  size  and  flavor.  Man's  labor  is  intended  to  perfect 
what  nature  doth  but  begin.  Think  ye,  that  when  man,  having 
fallen  from  his  primeval  state,  in  which  the  earth  yielded  him 
spontaneously  whatever  was  necessary  for  the  supply  of  his 
physical  wants,  was  condemned  to  liv^e  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow,  that  there  was  nothing  provided  for  him  to  do  ?" 

"  Well — peas  !"  said  the  divine. 

"  Peas  !"  reiterated  the  doctor.  "  All  esculent  roots,  and 
grains,  and  fruits  were  conferred  by  an  all-wise  Providence  on 
the  world  in  such  a  state  as  to  compel  obedience  to  the  com- 
mandment. Man  must  toil  before  he  can  enjoy  them.  They 
must  have  the  plow,  the  hoe,  the  pruning-knife  ;  and  the  ap- 
plication of  manures  which,  by  chemical  processes  known  to 
the  subtile  alchemy  of  nature,  work  potently  but  unseen ;  in 
short,  the  sweat  of  man,  like  the  dews  of  heaven,  must  fall 
upon  them  before  they  are  fitted  to  his  wants.  And  thus  we 
find  here  in  the  wildernesses  of  America,  where  civilized  man 
and  the  arts  of  culture  are  unknown,  the  embryo  pea ;  and 
doubtless  were  we  to  search  these  forests  with  a  careful, 
scientific  scrutiny,  we  should  discover  also  the  embryos  of 
most  of  our  grains  and  fruits  and  roots,  awaiting  the  cunning 
skill  of  the  husbandman  to  refine,  develop,  and  perfect  them." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Father  Antonio,  quickly.  "  I  admit  in 
part — peas " 

"  Peas  !"  screamed  Doctor  Oquetos,  raising  his  shrill  voice 
to  such  a  pitch  as  effectually  to  put  down  his  plethoric  and 
somewhat  exhausted  opponent,  and  at  the  same  time  appealing 
to  his  listeners  by  a  gesture  and  a  most  bland  glance  of  satis- 
faction. "  As  to  the  other  point,  diluvian  or  not  ?  that  is  the 
question.  Was  this  island  on  which  we  now  stand,  or  was  it 
not,  formed  at  the  time  of  the  general  deluge  1  I  affirm  it  was. 
The  reverend  father  maintains  the  contrary.  The  demonstra- 
tion of  the  affirmative  is  easy,  the  modus  operandi  clear.  It 
will  take  but  a  minute — was  then  and  there  heaped  up  ! — ebbs 


A  SURPRISE.  271 


and  flows  ! — large  masses  of  water  ! — receding  of  the  floods  ! 
— wuh  !  wuh  /" 

The  learned  gentleman  here  discovered  that  he  was  losing 
himself,  and  paused  to  collect  his  thoughts  and  get  a  little 
breath.  His  crest-fallen  opponent,  however,  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  take  advantage  of  this  accident  to  the  battery  of  his 
opponent,  and  the  doctor  accordingly  proceeded  : 

"  In  proof  of  my  position,  I  have  already  sought  out  and  sub- 
mitted to  our  spiritual  father  these  specimens  of  stone  con- 
taining marine  shells,  which,  I  take  it,  furnish  a  very  satis- 
factory proof  that  the  sea  has  at  some  time  flowed  here ;  unless 
we  choose  to  suppose  the  absurdity,  not  too  gross,  perhaps,  for 
some  minds,  that  this  veritable  island  has  in  some  unheard-of 
manner,  and  at  some  period  of  time,  been  loosed  from  its 
eternal  foundations,  and  been  made  to  travel  to  the  ocean,  in 
order  to  possess  itself  of  these  unquestionable  saline  produc- 
tions which  I  now  hold  in  my  hand." 

The  speaker  here,  with  an  air  of  proud  triumph,  submitted 
to  the  inspection  of  the  company  several  fragments  of  stone, 
presenting  on  their  broken  surfaces  apparent  impressions  of 
shells. 

Father  Antonio,  meanwhile,  was  making  a  last  dying  effort 
to  collect  his  energies  for  a  reply.  But  the  ground  gone  over 
by  the  doctor,  since  he  had  been  permitted  to  respond,  was  so 
extensive,  that  he  hesitated,  not  knowing  properly  where  to 
begin  ;  and  the  delay  was  fatal  to  his  purpose.  His  expert 
adversary  had  no  intention  of  relinquishing  the  advantage 
which  he  flattered  himself  he  had  gained  in  the  argument ;  he 
therefore  took  the  half-formed  words  out  of  the  divine's  mouth 
and  himself  continued : 

"  Beside^,  if  you  please,  observe  the  rounded  pebbles  that 
strew  the  beach  so  thickly  on  every  side.  The  motion  of  the 
sea  could  alone  have  worn  them  smooth  and  formed  the  con- 
vexity of  their  surfacos." 


272  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TUB  RED  MEN. 

"  Would  not  fresh  water  produce  those  effects  as  well  1" 
inquired  the  Lady  Viola. 

The  doctor  appeared  slightly  puzzled  for  a  moment ;  but, 
like  a  skillful  tactician  as  he  was,  cleared  the  dilemma  by  a 
nimble  skip  to  a  new  point. 

"  See  there  !"  said  he,  pointing* to  a  pile  of  flood-wood  which 
had  accumulated  in  a  hollow  on  the  upper  portion  of  the  island, 
and  not  far  from  the  spot  where  they  were.  "  The  hand  of 
man  never  placed  those  many  monarchs  of  the  forest  in  their 
present  bed.  They  have  been  torn  from  their  foundations, 
and  thus  deposited  by  the  mighty  throes  of  our  common 
mother,  nature." 

"  To.  what  age  of  the  world  would  you  refer  the  event  ?" 
said  the  Lady  Viola. 

"  Oh !  ah,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  the  doctor,  with  a  slight 
hesitation  ;  "  unquestionably  to  the  same  period  of  which  I 
have  before  spoken  ;  to  that  era  which  gave  form  to  the  sur- 
face of  our  earth,  as  we  now  have  it.  Unfortunately  the  pre- 
cise date  of  the  deluge  is  not  quite  settled,  being  still  a  subject 
of  controversy  with  our  profoundest  chronologists." 

"  But,  Doctor  Oquetos,"  said  Viola,  laughing,  "  how  do  you 
account  for  the  preservation  of  those  trees  for  such  a  length 
of  time]  Our  books  and  experience  teach  us  that  all  vegetable 
matter,  when  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  weather,  to  alternate 
rain  and  sun,  rapidly  decays." 

The  learned  doctor  did  not  appear  to  perceive  the  full 
force  of  the  remark ;  or,  if  he  did,  it  was  no  part  of  his  sys- 
tem of  tactics  to  retreat.  Accordingly  he  gallantly  pushed 
ahead. 

"  You  must  have  noticed,  my  dear  lady,"  said  he,  "  a  pecu- 
liar preserving  quality  in  this  northern  American  atmosphere, 
rendering  it  a  very  different  thing  from  the  air  of  Spain. 
Meats  here  are  readily  preserved  from  putrefaction  without 
packing  in  salt,  as  our  experience  with  venison  shows.     Had 


A  SURPRISE.  273 


we  time,  I  think  I  might  explain  the  philosophy  of  this  to  your 
entire  satisfaction." 

"  We  \fill  pass  that  point,  then,"  returned  the  Lady  Viola. 
"  But  as  to  the  island,  would  it  not  be  quite  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  it  is  the  remains  of  an  eminence  which  has  thus  far 
withstood  the  action  of  the  surrounding  water ;  or  that  it  has 
been  left  above  the  surface  of  the  river  by  the  gradual  deep- 
ening of  the  river's  bed  in  the  softer  earth  around  it ;  or,  as  is 
still  more  probable,  perhaps,  that  at  the  time  of  some  flood — 
not  a  Noah's  flood — it  was  cut  from  one  of  the  banks  by  the 
forcing  of  an  additional  channel  ?" 

"  Perhaps  so,  perhaps  so,"  replied  the  doctor,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  retreats  from  a  sound  position  from  motives  of 
gallantry.  "  Such  explanations  of  the  great  phenomena  of 
nature,  however,  can  hardly  be  expected  to  satisfy  the  scien- 
tific mind.  That  looks  higher,  deeper,  and  broader,  and  can 
not  rest  until  it  holds  in  its  grasp  the  mysterious  arcana  of 
the  universe.  My  profound  knowledge  of  geology,  madam, 
enables  me  to  decide  with  certainty  many  questions  which  for 
centuries  have  distracted  the  entire  learned  world  ;  and " 

"  I  wish  this  senseless  jargon  might  be  brought  to  a  close," 
said  Don  Ferdinand,  pettishly.  "  Viola  has  been  talking  like 
a  university  professor,  and  Doctor  Oquetos  like  a  fool,  for  the 
last  half  hour.  I  am  exhausted  and  sick ;  and  if  we  are  to 
have  any  refreshments,  I  would  like  them  brought  forth." 

The  Lady  Viola,  who,  for  the  time,  seemed  equally  to  have 
forgotten  the  presence  of  Don  Ferdinand  and  her  own  sad 
thoughts,  was  brought  back  to  perfect  consciousness  by  the 
chevalier's  remark.  Doctor  Oquetos  was  enraged.  He, 
however,  with  the  help  of  the  good  Father  Antonio,  who,  for- 
getting his  own  discomfiture  in  his  office  of  comforter,  came 
to  the  rescue  with  words  of  soothing,  succeeded  in  smother- 
ing his  chagrin.  A  spot  of  grass  beneath  an  umbrageous 
shade  was  selected,  and  the  refreshments  were  spread  out  on 
-  12* 


274  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

the  ground.  Don  Manuel,  pleased  that  his  daughter  had  ex- 
hibited an  interest  in  the  little  events  of  the  day,  and  rejoiced 
to  know  that  any  thing  was  able  to  arouse  her  from  the  list- 
lessness  which  had  latterly  oppressed  her,  was  in  excellent 
spirits;  and  even  Don  Ferdinand,  as  some  bottles  of  choice 
wine,  which  still  remained  of  their  New  York  stores,  were 
uncorked,  was  forced,  apparently  much  against  his  will,  into 
the  semblance  of  cheerfulness. 

"  Where  can  good  Michael  be  ?"  at  length  inquired  Lady 
Viola,  as  the  lunch  was  ended.  Ah,  yonder  he  is  hard  at 
work.     Let  us  see,  father,  what  he  is  doing." 

The  party  accordingly  proceeded  to  the  spot  indicated,  and 
examined  with  some  curiosity  the  mysterious  labors  of  the  old 
man,  the  object  of  which  no  one  of  them  was  able  to  divine. 
He  had  divided,  a  short  distance  from  toe  ground,  a  famous 
grape-vine,  which  now  hung  like  a  rope  cable  suspended  from 
the  top  of  a  leaning  elm.  To  the  end  of  this  he  was  about 
fastening  a  sort  of  basket  made  of  twigs  and  bark,  which  fur- 
nished a  safe  and  comfortable  seat.  When  his  arrangements 
were  completed,  he  proceeded  to  demonstrate  practically  the 
uses  for  which  the  contrivance  was  intended.  Depositing 
himself  in  the  wicker  basket,  he  called  on  O'Brady  to  aid  him 
in  procuring  a  suitable  momentum,  and  was  soon  sweeping 
through  the  air  at  a  startling  rate,  performing  a  vibratory 
movement  like  a  pendulum  for  the  distance  of  some  fifty  or 
sixty  feet. .  All  were  delighted  at  the  exhibition  of  a  swing 
on  so  grand  a  scale ;  and  each  in  turn  seated  himself  in  it  to 
share  in  the  novel  diversion. 

But  the  Lady  Viola,  finding  the  exercise  of  too  rough  and 
startling  a  nature  for  her  enjoyment,  soon  relinquished  the 
mammoth  toy  to  the  pleasure  of  the  rest ;  and  with  her  at- 
tendant, Ruby,  strolled  away,  to  revel  in  the  rich  prospects, 
the  bowers  and  flowers,  which  the  scenery  on  every  side  pre- 
sented.    Very  shortly  they  found  themselves  in  the  shelter  of 


A  SURPRISE.  2lfb 


a  little  grove,  but  had  hardly  commenced  their  collection  of 
wild  flowers  and  fragrant  herbs,  some  of  them  bearing  fruit — > 
the  lady's  slipper,  the  violet,  the  thyme,  the  wintergreen,  the 
sand  cherry — when  they  were  startled  by  a  slight  noise,  and 
looking  up,  the  young  Indian,  Alwyn,  stood  before  them.  He 
dropped  himself  gracefully  on  one  knee;  and  silently  held  up 
to  view  a  ring,  once  the  Lady  Viola's,  but  now  or  late  belong- 
ing to  Captain  Warwick. 

"  He  is  dead,"  said  Viola,  faintly, 

"  No,  no  !"  replied  the  savage,  quickly,  "  well !"  and  with 
difficulty  so  as  to  be  intelligible,  he  added,  "  Love  to  the  white 
bird." 

"  Pale  and  trembling,  the  Lady  Viola  was  obliged  to  lean 
on  the  faithful  Ruby  for  support.  She  found  herself  greatly 
perplexed  to  interpret  clearly  the  occurrence,  and  the  some- 
what disconnected  words  which  Alwyn  had  uttered.  On  the 
contrary,  to  Ruby  the  import  was  clear  as  day.  Warwick 
was  well.  He  had  sent  the  ring  as  a  token  that  the  messen- 
ger came  from  him,  and  might  be  trusted.  He  was  well,  and 
had  sent  his  love,  and  doubtless  would  expect  some  message 
in  return. 

The  Lady  Viola  was  too  much  agitated  to  speak.  Her 
hair  in  the  confusion  had  escaped  from  the  bands  which  held 
it,  and  her  attendant  was  endeavoring  to  replace  it ;  while 
Alwyn,  maintaining  his  respectful  posture,  gazed  on  her  face 
with  a  mingled  expression  of  sympathy  and  admiration.  See- 
ing her  mistress  speechless.  Ruby  inquired : 

"  Where  is  your  master,  Alwyn  ?" 

The  Indian  pointed  away  into  the  deep  forest. 

"  Come  when  needed,"  said  he,  very  deliberately,  as  though 
he  had  committed  the  phrase  to  memory.     "  White  bird  any 


message 


?" 


Viola  answered  not.     With  Ruby's  assistance  she  seated 
herself  on  a  little  mossy  knoll,  where,  burying  her  face  in  her 


276  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

hands,  she  seemed  lost  in  conflicting  emotions.  Her  attend- 
ant was  of  a  different  cast  of  character,  and  fitted,  as  has  been 
seen,  for  prompt  action  in  emergencies.  Fearing  that  Alwyn 
might  be  discovered,  in  the  urgency  of  the  moment  she  whipped 
out  her  scissors,  and  clipping  a  ringlet  from  her  mistress* 
flowing  tresses,  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the  savage. 

"  We  are  well,"  said  she.  "  Tell  Captain  Warwick  that 
we  are  all  well,  and  that  my  mistrsss  has  not  forgotten  him." 

Alwyn  appeared  to  take  in  the  import  of  her  words.  He 
received  the  precious  token  with  the  most  profound  respect, 
and  placing  it  in  his  bosom,  vanished  among  the  bushes  al- 
most as  though  he  had  been  a  shadow.  , 

The  Lady  Viola,  but  half  conscious  of  what  her  maid  was 
doing,  for  the  moment  did  not  chide.  Her  mind  and  feelings 
were 'in  a  whirl ;  but  among  the  wild  and  tumultuous  thoughts 
of  her  heart  there  was  assuredly  one  bright  and  definite  idea. 
It  was  the  knowledge  that  Warwick  still  lived,  and  was  near 
her.  This  assurance  re-lit  the  expiring  lamp  of  hope  in  her 
breast,  which  diffused  its  warming  influence  through  her  physi- 
cal frame  ;  and  from  that  hour  her  cheek  began  to  glow  again, 
the  wreathed  smiles  to  play  about  her  lips,  and  her  eyes  to 
sparkle  as  she  spoke. 

The  day  being  pretty  well  advanced,  the  party  shortly  after, 
with  a  keen  remembrance  of  the  island  and  its  charming 
haunts,  returned  to  the  encampment. 


tx  ffeirtg-si^. 


TRADITIONS  OP  BEND  MCJtlNTAIN.     AN  EPISODE,  ON  WHICH   HINGES  THE  FINAL' 
DENOUEMENT  OP  THE  PLOT.     JOACHIM  BLAZO  AND  HIS  DREAMS. 


"  Bom.  I  dreamt  a  dream  to-night. 
Her.  And  so  did  I. 

Rom.  "Well,  what  was  yours  ? 
Her.  That  dreamers  often  He. 

Bom.   In  bed,  asleep,  while  they  do  dream  things  true.' 


"VrOW  it  came  to  pass,  on  a  certain  night,  that  the  leaders 
-L-i  of  the  Spanish  party  were  suddenly  aroused  from  their 
slumbers  by  a  great  uproar  in  the  camp.  On  going  out  to  as- 
certain the  cause,  they  found  themselves  in  a  perfect  bedlam 
of  disorder  and  confusion.  Some  of  the  men  were  cursing, 
some  were  groaning,  and  others  quaking  and  speechless  with 
affright,  while  several  were  discovered  with  their  garments 
torn  in  tatters,  and  wounded  and  bleeding. 

Don  Manuel  at  first  supposed  that  another  mutiny  might 
have  broken  forth :  Johnson  and  Don  Ferdinand  were  -  dis- 
posed to  view  the  proceeding  as  a  quarrel  or  riot  among  the 
men  ;  but  no  one  could  be  found  to  explain  the  real  cause  of 
the  disturbance.  In  reply  to  the  questions  asked,  one  talked 
incoherently  of  ghosts,  another  of  demons,  and  another  of  con- 
jurors and  enchantments.  Completely  at  fault,  but  satisfied 
at  length  that  no  actual  rebellion  was  intended.  Doctor  Oque- 
tos  was  summoned  to  look  after  the  broken  heads  and  limbs, 
and  the  further  maintaining  of  order  for  the  night  placed  in 
charge  of  the  prudent  Johnson. 

On  the  morrow,  a  sort  of  court  of  investigation  was  con- 
vened, and  the  affair  sifted,  with  the  following  result : 


278  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED   MEK 

The  most  ignorant  man  in  the  fortress,  without  a  doubt, 
though  possessed  of  some  education,  which  not  many  of  his 
companions  could  boast,  was  an  old  Spaniard  called  Joachim 
Blazo.  He,  from  a  certain  air  of  gravity,  and  the  utterance 
of  occasional  wise  saws,  which  a  pretty  retentive  memory  had 
enabled  him  to  garner,  had  been  elevated  by  his  admirers  into 
a  man  of  some  consequence.  There  were  those  who  deemed 
his  sayings  oracles ;  and  followed  after  him,  and  gathered 
them,  as  though  they  were  falling  manna :  and  even  his  con- 
tradictions and  blunders,  on  a  careful  scrutiny,  were  found  by 
these  persons  to  be  made  up  of  spontaneous  offshoots  of 
wisdom. 

For  a  long  time  also,  indeed,  from  the  moment  the 
Spaniards  set  foot  on  the  mysterious  mountain  and  struck 
shovel  in  its  side,  a  strange  influence  had  seemed  to  rest  upon 
them.  The  mere  fact  that  their  leaders,  while  yet  in  distant 
Mexico,  had  in  some  manner  gained  a  knowledge  of  this  hill, 
and  afterward  had  been  drawn  to  it  through  a  long  stretch  of 
pathless  woods,  as  by  a  loadstone,  was  sufficient  to  furnish  a 
foundation  for  their  wonder.  The  feeling  was  increased  by 
the  evidences  before  them  that  the  mine  had  been  previously 
wrought:  and  a  thousand  wild  speculations  still  added  to  its 
mtensity.  Who  were  the  adventurers  that  had  preceded 
them,  and  what  had  been  their  fate  ?  Had  they  realized  for- 
tunes on  which  they  retired  to  live  in  luxurious  ease  1  Had 
they  utterly  failed?  or,  having  succeeded  in  grasping  the 
glittering  treasure,  were  they  finally  cut  off  by  the  savages, 
perishing  in  the  midst  of  wealth  which  proved  pow^erless  to 
protect  them  "^ 

The  Indians  were  questioned  after  their  traditionary  lore, 
but  with  little  success.  Something,  however,  was  supposed 
to  have  been  learned  from  this  source,  which  gave  weight  to 
the  favorite  opinion,  that  bloodshed  and  disaster  had  thus  far 
marked  the  history  of  the  mountain  and  the  mine.     Gradually 


JOACHIM  BLAZO  AKD  HIS  DREAMS.  279 

a  connected  tale  was  woven ;  and  it  came  to  be  very  generally 
reported  and  believed,  that  others  had  dug  where  they  were 
digging,  and  had  succeeded  in  accumulating  great  riches ;  but, 
falling  out  among  themselves,  and  quarreling  with  the  natives, 
they  were  mostly  destroyed :  that  those  who  remained  alive 
were  insufficient  to  bear  away  their  treasures,  and  so  buried 
them  in  the  mine.  Thus  was  the  filling  up  of  the  assumed 
excavation  accounted  for. 

Joachim  Blazo  was  the  center  around  which  the  credulous 
and  wonder-loving  delighted  to  gather ;  and  about  these  days 
he  took  it  upon  him  to  dream  a  dream. 

He  dreamed  that  a  tall  and  dignified  but  swarthy  personage, 
wrapped  in  a  robe  of  rich  furs,  and  wearing  on  his  head  a 
crown  of  wampum,  dyed  feathers,  and  gold,  appeared  to  him : 
and  after  eyeing  him  intently  for  some  minutes,  with  a  pair  of 
most  luminous  black  orbs,  said :  that  he  was  the  ghost  of  an 
ancient  Indian  King,  who  had  formerly  reigned  with  great 
power  and  magnificence  in  those  parts ;  that  on  a  certain  time, 
while  he  was  yet  in  the  body,  a  company  of  pale  men, 
strangers,  children  of  the  sun,  suddenly  made  their  appearance 
«in  his  dominions,  and  took  possession  of  that  very  mountain, 
and  formed  their  camp  on  the  identical  spot  now  occupied  by 
Joachim  and  his  companions :  that  he  and  his  people  were 
alarmed,  and  suspected  that  they  intended  to  found  an  empire 
of  their  own ;  but  afterward  discovered  that  their  object  was 
to  rifle  the  heart  of  the  hill  of  its  hidden  treasures  :  that  these 
strangers  controlled  the  thunders  and  the  lightnings,  so  that 
their  dwelling-place  on  the  mountain  was  often  in  a  blaze,  and 
overhung  with  a  canopy  of  smoke,  while  the  earth  shook  with 
the  violence  of  the  concussions  ;  and  he  dared  not  interfere 
with  them :  that  ultimately  they  fell  out  with  one  another, 
about  the  division  of  their  spoils  ;  and  day  and  night,  for  six 
courses  of  the  sun,  fought  among  themselves,  until  most  of 
them  were  slain  :  that  havingr  become  thus  weakened,  he  and 


280  CAMP  FIBES  OF  TEE  RED   MEK 

his  people  fell  on  them  by  surprise,  and  made  prisoners  of  the 
remainder  :  that  not  fully  understanding  the  value  of  the  gold, 
he  caused  the  bars,  to  an  untold  amount,  to  be  piled  in  the 
depths  of  the  mine,  covered  them  with  the  dead  bodies  ;  and 
compelled  the  captives,  chained  to  their  own  barrows,  to  bury 
their  companions  ;  and  afterward  to  fill  up  the  entire  excava- 
tion :  that  two  years  of  constant  labor  were  devoted  to  this 
purpose ;  when  the  prisoners  were  suffered  to  depart :  that 
finally,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  he  himself  died,  being  old  and 
well  stricken  in  years ;  and  now,  for  many  moons  and  many 
winters  and  summers,  his  soul  had  been  alternately  suffering 
the  pains  of  purgatory,  and  wandering  on  the  earth ;  awaiting 
the  appearance  thereon  of  one  Joachim  Blazo,  a  just  man ; 
who,  it  was  decreed  in  the  records  of  fate,  should  restore  to 
the  world  the  treasures  he  had  ignorantly  buried  ;  and  give  to 
the  bones  lying  therewith,  the  rights  of  Christian  sepulture; 
when  his  perturbed  spirit  would  be  at  rest. 

The  dead  King  did  not  seem  to  have  finished  his  relation , 
but  Joachim  here  became  so  much  elated  at  the  prospect  of 
sudden  wealth,  that  he  awoke  :  and  of  course,  through  or  not, 
the  shade  was  compelled  by  the  accident  to  cease  his  reve- 
lations, and  take  his  departure.  Old  Blazo  rubbed  his  eyes 
and  looked  about  him  ;  but  it  was  intently  dark  in  his  tent,  so 
that  in  case  the  apparition  still  remained,  he  had  no  chance 
whatever  of  seeing  him.  He  was  of  a  mind  to  arise  and 
light  a  torch,  but  luckily  bethought  himself  in  season  that  the 
inhabitants  of  the  other  world  are  not  reputed  to  be  par- 
ticularly partial  to  fire  :  so,  after  a  little  reflection,  he  came  to 
the  wise  conclusion  to  compose  himself  again  to  rest,  and  let 
the  spirit  of  the  Indian  King  deal  with  him  in  his  own  way. 

But  he  courted  the  poppy-god  in  vain.  Sleep  fled  from  his 
eyes  and  slumber  from  his  eyelids ;  and  the  more  he  wooed 
the  drowsy  snorer,  the  more  he  could  not  find  him.  The 
flanks  of  his  imagination  had  been  touched  by  a  spur,  which 


JOACHIM  BLAZO  AND  HIS  DREAMS.  281 

set  it  cantering  quite  beyond  his  control ;  and  in  spite  of  him- 
self, visions  of  grandeur  and  display  for  his  latter  days  floated 
in  brilliant  perspective  before  him ;  fully  bent,  in  defiance  of 
consequences,  on  keeping  him  awake.  More  than  once  he 
pictured  out  minutely  before  the  eyes  of  his  fancy  his  future 
palace,  his  train  of  servants,  and  his  equipage  :  and  diving 
into  the  bowels  of  the  hill,  with  a  yard-stick  in  his  hand,  and 
great  gusto  and  deliberation,  he  took  the  dimensions  of  the 
mass  of  yellow  ingots,  as  though  it  had  been  cord-wood. 

But  it  was  indeed  an  unlucky  slip,  a  very  unfortunate 
omission,  that  the  precise  spot  where  this  immense  amount 
of  treasure  lay  had  not  been  designated.  As  things  now 
stood,  he  might  dig  a  month,  nay,  for  that  matter,  all  his  life- 
time, without  at  last  being  able  to  discover  it.  He  blamed  his 
own  precipitancy,  and  cursed  that  spirit  of  vanity  which  had 
puffed  him  so  full  as  to  awake  him  just  at  the  critical  moment, 
when  the  important  knowledge,  to  all  appearance,  was  about 
to  have  been  committed  to  his  charge.  Next,  in  a  fit  of  des- 
peration, He  fell  to  finding  fault  with  the  dead  King.  Had  he, 
like  a  decent  ghost,  instead  of  spinning  him  a  long  yarn  about 
his  own  performances  both  in  the  body  and  out,  just  come  to 
the  point  at  once — had  he  but  begun  at  the  other  end  of  his 
story,  and  introducing  him  to  the  place,  the  particular  locality 
in  the  mine,  pointed,  even  with  the  little  end  of  his  little  finger, 
and  said : 

"  Sir  Joachim,  thou  pure  man,  beneath  that  stone  (or  log 
or  spot  of  earth,  as  the  case  might  be)  lieth  an  immense  pile 
of  golden  treasure.  Give  Christian  burial  to  the  bones  that 
molder  there,  and  the  whole  is  yours." 

"  Bravo !"  exclaimed  Joachim,  "  that  would  have  done  the 
business,  and  his  ghostship  might  have  finished  his  story  at 
some  other  time." 

But  ghosts,  like  other  folks,  are  sometimes  fond  of  having 
their  own  way ;  and  as  it  was  already  growing  light  from  the 


^283  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEK 


proximity  of  day,  old  Blazo  gave  up  the  idea  of  further  revela- 
tions for  that  time,  and  comforted  himself  v^^ith  the  thought 
that  no  well-informed  and  sensible  spirit  would  suffer  himself 
to  be  balked  of  his  purpose  by  so  small  a  matter  as  a  mortal's 
awaking  from  sleep  a  moment  too  soon. 

During  the  succeeding  day  Joachim  was  a  very  different 
man  from  what  he  had  ever  been  before.  He  worked  but 
little,  appeared  absent  and  thoughtful,  and  kept  himself  aloof 
from  his  companions,  who  wondered  much  thereat ;  and  it  was 
noticed  that  the  bending  down  to  the  shovel  or  the  barrow 
seemed  to  give  him  pain.  His  fellows  judged  he  must  be 
troubled  with  a  crick  in  his  back,  so  kindly  performed  his 
labor  for  him,  and  inquired  after  his -ailment.  But  he,  like  a 
prudent  man,  kept  silent ;  or,  if  he  spoke  at  all,  it  was  in 
parables,  which,  for  the  once,  they  could  not  read,  and  high- 
sounding  words  which  came  nigh  to  displease  them.  By-and- 
by,  as  it  was  seen  that  he  went  out  one  side,  and  seemed  to 
be  practicing  the  airs  and  attitudes  of  a  gentlemen,  some  ^ 
there  were  who  feared  he  was  becoming  demented,  and  sor- 
rowed on  his  account- 
But  Joachim  Blazo,  had  he  known  it,  would  have  scorned 
their  compassion.  Impatiently  did  he  long  for  night  again, 
and  doubted  not  that,  in  the  mysterious  passages  of  sleep,  the 
good  ghost  would  again  appear  and  finish  the  work  he  had 
begun. 

At  length,  after  an  almost  interminable  delay,  night  came, 
and  he  went  to  bed,  and  finally  slept.  Again  the  vision  ap- 
peared. Again  the  Indian  King  stood  before  him,  clothed  in 
furs  and  gold,  and  again  commenced  the  narration  of  his  story. 
Much  to  Joachim's  disappointment,  he  went  back  to  the  very 
beginning ;  and  he  thought  there  was  a  loftiness  of  bearing 
about  him,  almost  amounting  to  haughtiness,  which  he  did  not 
notice  before ;  and  he  referred  it  to  disappointment,  and  per- 
haps dissatisfaction  at  the  result  of  his  previous  visit.     Trou- 


JOACBIM  BLAZO  AN^D  HIS  DREAMS  %%'S 

jpled  at  the  thought,  exactly  at  the  same  ppint  in  the  tale  as 
before,  he  awoke.  Gazing  hurriedly  around  he  was  quite 
sure  that  the  pale  glow  of  a  sulphurous  light,  though  faint  and 
fast  fading,  still  clung  to  the  room  ;  and  that  he  caught  a  dim 
and  imperfect  glimpse  of  the  shade,  as  it  disappeared  in  the 
extreme  corner  of  his  tent. 

But  all  this  was  matter  of  small  consolation.  The  main 
point  remained  as  obscure  as  ever ;  and  if  he  cursed  himself 
on  the  previous  night,  he  now  felt  more  than  half  disposed  to 
make  a  warning  and  example  of  himself,  by  the  execution  on 
his  own  person  of  a  summary  vengeance.  He  made  no  fur- 
ther effort  for  sleep ;  indeed,  the  attempt  were  vain,  and  if 
not  vain,  useless  ;  for  what  ghost,  especially  of  a  monarch, 
could  be  expected  to  wait  on  his  nod  and  beck,  to  come  and 
go  at  his  bidding  ?  He  was  the  most  unfortunate  man  alive, 
and  perchance  would  have  gone  distracted  before  morning  had 
it  not  luckily  occurred  to  him  that  the  supernatural  calendar 
is  arranged  by  threes,  and  that  the  morrow  night,  being  the 
third  of  the  series,  would  without  doubt  conclude  the  affair, 
and  lead  to  the  full  fruition  of  his  wishes. 

Comforted  and  at  length  cheered  by  this  happy  thought,  his 
confidence  returned,  and  he  relaxed  nothing  on  the  following 
day  of  his  suddenly-assumed  importance.  Reflection,  indeed, 
did  but  establish  his  mind ;  he  now  considered  it  certain  that 
he  was  a  made  man;  and  accordingly  cast  about  him  for  a 
confidant  to  whom  he  might  reveal,  and  with  whom  he  might 
enjoy  anew,  the  story  of  his  prospective  riches  and  honors. 
On  balancing  the  subject  maturely  in  his  mind,  he  pitched  or 
Ambrose,  the  personal  attendant  or  valet  of  Don  Ferdinand 
and  who  by  reason  of  position,  added  to  natural  shrewdness, 
was  a  character  of  much  importance  in  the  camp,  to  subserve 
the  purpose  of  a  friend  on  the  occasion.  To  him,  with  a  pro- 
found solemnity,  such  as  the  subject  demanded,  and  with  many 
hems  and  haws,  Joachim  Blazo  made  a  clean  breast  of  his 


284  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEK 

visions  of  the  night,  and  of  the  visions  of  greatness  which 
oppressed  him. 

Ambrose  listened  w^ith  a  mixture  of  incredulity  and  wondei 
At  first  he  was  only  prevented  from  stretching  his  mouth,  as 
near  as  possible,  from  one  auditory  orifice  to  the  other,  by  the 
fear  of  giving  offense  ;  but  soon  his  superstition  and  avarice 
both  became  enlisted,  and  he  smoothed  his  face  into  an  atti- 
tude of  meek  and  respectful  attention.  The  expert  Joachim 
secured  his  conversion  by  assuming  the  entire  responsibility 
of  the  affair,  and  staking  his  veracity  on  the  issue,  assuring 
him,  independent  of  evidence,  that  it  was  all  gospel  truth  ; 
and  taking  into  the  account  the  reputation  of  old  Blazo  for  anom- 
alous wisdom,  and  the  traditions  of  the  mine,  Ambrose  very 
frankly  acknowledged  that  the  revelations  of  the  Indian  King 
might  very  well  turn  out  to  be  true.  He  furthermore  cautioned 
.the  dreamer  to  keep  the  affair  a  profound  secret  from  every 
body  besides  ;  and  advised  him,  by  all  means,  to  bring  matters 
to  a  speedy  crisis  with  the  ghost. 

Pleased  with  this  counsel,  and  greatly  elated  at  the  idea  of 
so  respectable  a  follower  as  Ambrose,  Joachim  Blazo  only 
awaited  the  going  down  of  the  sun  to  retire  to  his  couch. 


^ttx  f  feuta-s^b^n* 


JOACHIM,  IN  DESPAIR,  INTRODUCES  HIS  NECK  TO  A  NOOSE.     HIS  WISH  GRATI- 
FIED, AND  HIS  DREAM  FINISHED. 


"  Here's  music 
Itt  this  bag  shall  wake  her,  though  she  had  drank  optuiu, 
Or  eaten  mandrakes," 


JOACHIM  BLAZO  slipped  on  his  night-cap,  and  hastily 
doffing  his  small-clothes  and  hopping  into  bed,  composed 
his  limbs  in  decent  order,  and  determinately  closed  his  eyes. 
He  was  never  more  resolute  with  his  pickaxe  in  a  ditch  than 
he  was  now  to  go  to  sleep ;  and  after  a  half  hour  or  so  had 
elapsed,  he  was  naturally  surprised  at  his  poor  success.  He 
turned  over  on  his  bed  and  examined  himself  critically  to  as- 
certain if  he  could  detect  any  evidences  of  drowsiness.  He 
yawned,  and  felt  encouraged.  He  yawned  again  and  again,  and 
finally  discovered  that  he  was  holding  his  jaws  gaping  to  their 
utmost  extension,  for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  himself  as  to  the 
exact  condition  of  his  symptoms.  Still  he  said  to  himself,  "  I 
have  certainly  committed  an  involuntary  yawn,  once  and  again ; 
and  after  yawning  comes  sleep."  More  at  ease  in  his  mind, 
he  fell  to  contriving  what  he  should  do  with  his  riches. 

He  mentally  transported  a  ship-load  of  treasure  to  Spain, 
and  started  on  a  career  of  splendor  which  wou'd  have  shamed 
the  Ferdinands.  He  builded  him  a  palace  which  outvied  the 
Alhambra,  allied  himself  with  a  young  and  beautiful  princess, 
and  sat  himself  quietly  down  beneath  his  own  vine.  But  a 
person  of  his  consequence  could  not  be  supposed  to  remain  in 


286  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEW. 

seclusion.  His  unambitious  privacy  was  disturbed,  his  happy 
domestic  life  was  broken  in  upon — oh,  how  much  against  his 
wishes  ! — and  he  was  dragged  forth  by  his  sovereign,  pro- 
claimed the  purest  and  wisest  of  men,  and  made  prime  minis- 
ter of  the  realm  ;  and  the  simple  name  of  Joachim  Blazo,  more 
precious  to  him  than  all  the  high-sounding  titles  of  kings  and 
conquerors,  in  despite  of  his  humility  and  blushes,  became 
swallowed  up  and  lost  in  the  magnificent  appellation  of  the 
'  Marquis  of  Spangdangleo. 

The  call  of  the  sentinels  announcing  the  hour  of  midnight 
and  the  safety  of  the  fortress  here  startled  him,  and  his  fanci- 
ful castles  fell.  He  was  somewhat  injured  by  the  shock  ;  and 
in  the  confusion  attendant  on  the  catastrophe,  the  beautiful 
princess  and  the  Marquis  of  Spangdangleo  ran  off  together, 
and  left  him  alone  with  the  ruins.  When  he  had  sufficiently 
collected  his  scattered  senses,  he  had  also  the  additional  mor- 
tification to  perceive  that  he  was  not  yet  asleep. 

He  counted  a  thousand  and  one  ;  but  in  vain.  He  tried 
every  other  recipe  of  which,  in  the  course  of  his  life,  he  had 
heard  to  induce  somnolency  ;  but  worse  and  worse  it  was  with 
him.  If  on  the  two  preceding  nights  he  had  been  forced  to 
content  himself  with  a  single  meager  nap,  and  the  first  chap- 
ter of  the  revelations  in  which  his  very  existence  was  bound 
up,  it  did  now  seem  as  though  this  third  prophetic  period,  this 
present  blessed  hemisphere  of  darkness,  was  not  to  vouchsafe 
him  even  that. 

^  But  it  could  not  well  be  possible.  Such  a  gross  violation 
of  the  rules  and  precedents  of  the  court  of  dreams  was  neither 
to  be  expected  nor  endured.  This  was  the  great  third  night, 
the  time  when,  according  to  the  common  law  which  had  gov- 
erned the  subject  from  time  immemorial,  the  ghostly  visitation 
and  relation  should  culminate  and  end ;  and  he  could  not  be- 
lieve, and  did  not  believe,  but  that  such  would  now  be  the 
case,  until  the  pale  day  looked  into  his  tent  and  stared  him 


JOACmyPS  DttEAM  FINISIIEP.  287 

full  in  the  face.  Then  indeed  he  dragged  himself  from  his 
bed,  more  dead  than  alive,  and  in  his  own  opinion  a  ruined 
man.  Weak,  nervous,  and  haggard,  he  was  truly  a  pitiable 
object,  and  for  that  time  might  well  have  escaped  from  labor 
on  the  plea  of  sickness.  But  he  waited  not  to  be  excused  ; 
he  could  not  endure  that  any  human  eye  should  see  him  ;  and 
to  the  inquiries  of  Ambrose,  who  was  anxiously  awaiting  his 
appearance,  he  returned  a  wild  and  maniac  laugh,  and  rushed 
out  of  the  camp  and  up  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

Nearly  crazed  to  a  certainty  was  Joachim  Blazo  by  his 
disappointments,  which  were  of  that  peculiar  nature  against 
which  human  sagacity  and  foresight  are  unable  to  provide. 
He  had  -sought  a  dream,  and  could  not  find  it.  He  had,  as 
he  believed,  been  fooled,  baffled,  and  betrayed  by  a  ghost. 

Careless  of  life  and  limb,  he  kept  on  his  headlong  career, 
as  fast  and  as  headlong  as  could  possibly  be  expected  in  an 
uphill  course  such  as  he  had  chosen.  On  getting  out  of  sight 
of  the  fortress,  however,  he  turned  in  a  horizontal  direction, 
v/here  his  opportunities  were  vastly  better  for  leaping  preci- 
pices and  plunging  down  horrible  chasms.  Having  run  in  this 
manner  for  a  long  distance,  and  made  several  wonderful  and 
hairbreadth  escapes,  he  at  length  sunk  down  on  the  ground 
completely  exhausted.  The  spot  was  a  little  mossy  hollow 
among  the  rocks,  surrounded  by  desolation  and  gloom,  a  fit 
place  for  the  last  chapter  in  the  life  of  a  disappointed  man. 
Joachim  Blazo  acknowledged  the  omen.  The  sweat  was 
pouring  from  him  in  torrents.  He  puffed  and  gasped  like  a 
dying  porpoise  in  his  involuntary  attempts  to  regain  the  faculty 
of  respiration  ;  and  as  he  cast  a  last  sad  look  toward  the  blue 
sky,  ere  his  final  night  should  shut  in,  he  observed  a  branch 
of  witch-hazel  hanging  down  invitingly  above  him.  Accept- 
ing the  hint,  without  more  ado  he  made  a  noose  of  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  slipped  it  over  his  neck.  It  was  easy  to  fasten 
the  other  extremity  to  the  tree,  but  there  did  not  seem  to  be 


288  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

any  well -arranged  jumping-ofF  place  at  hand  ;  and  singularly- 
enough,  at  this  stage  of  the  proceeding,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
without  the  very  best  facilities,  the  operation  he  proposed 
would  be  unpleasant.  So  feeling  very  much  disposed  for  rest 
of  some  kind,  he  stretched  himself  on  the  moss,  and  was  soon 
in  a  profound  sleep. 

There  was  no  danger  now  that  the  fertility  of  his  fancy,  or 
any  little  spiritual  punctilio  would  awake  him.  He  snored 
like  a  seahorse  ;  and  thought  nothing  further  of  this  world  or 
the  other,  gold,  princesses,  or  ghosts,  or  even  of  his  own  most 
terrible  disappointments,  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 
By  that  time  his  physical  man  had  somewhat  renewed  its 
vigor,  and  his  lethargy  became  less  deep.  His  thoughts  be- 
gan to  skip  about  again,  and  to  run  in  their  accustomed  chan- 
nels :   and  again  he  was  in  the  mood  for  dreams. 

Once  more  the  Indian  King  stood  before  him,  but  the  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance  was  this  time  mild  and  agree- 
able ;  and  Joachim  felt  no  fear.  Indeed,  the  specter  conde- 
scended to  assure  him  that  he  had  chalked  no  scores  against 
him,  and  owed  him  no  ill  will ;  and  that  now  he  had  come 
to  do  him  substantial  good,  and  to  make  an  end  of  his  reve- 
lations. 

He  began  as  on  the  two  former  occasions,  and  related  his 
story,  going  over  the  same  ground  word  for  word.  When 
this  was  accomplished,  with  a  dexterity  which  showed  that 
he  understood  his  business,  he  coiled  a  noose  in  a  belt  of 
wampum,  and  slipping  it  over  Joachim's  head,  just  so  fer  that 
it  held  fast  under  his  nose  and  ears,  he  whipped  him  up  into 
the  air,  or  down  into  the  earth,  Joachim  could  not  exactly  tell 
which ;  and  a  moment  after  both  were  standing  in  the  mine. 
The  men  were  there  all  busy  at  their  work.  This  Joachim 
readily  saw,  but  none  of  them  appeared  to  take  the  least 
notice  of  him.  There  stood  his  own  barrow  and  shovel, 
already  rusting  for  lack  of  use  :  and  while  the  Very  sight  of 


JOAGHIWS  DREAM  FINISHED.  289 

them  made  him  melancholy,  he  heard  that  scapegrace  of  an 
Ambrose  say,  that  he  did  not  see  how  such  an  old  fool  as 
Blazo  could  get  lunatic  ;  for  he  always  supposed  it  was  neces- 
sary for  people  to  have  brains,  in  order  to  become  demented. 

Justly  incensed  at  this  most  ungenerous  and  infamous  remark, 
aimed,  too,  at  an  absent  man,  Joachim  felt  greatly  inclined  to 
resent  it  on  the  spot ;  but  his  patron,  the  ghost  of  the  Indian 
King,  just  at  that  moment  beginning  to  manifest  a  little  impa- 
tience, he  contented  himself  with  inwardly  vowing  that  Am- 
brose should  never  finger  the  first  brass  farthing  of  his  riches, 
and  gave  a  respectful  attention. 

"  Joachim  Blazo !"  said  the  shade  of  the  monarch,  in  a 
loud,  solemn  voice,  which  it  was  marvelous  indeed  that  the 
workmen  did  not  hear,  "  Joachim  Blazo,  thou  just  man,  give 
ear !  Dost  thou  see  that  little  red  and  blue  stone  there,  about 
twice  as  big  as  thy  nose,  which  is  none  of  the  smallest  ?" 

To  which  Joachim  with  a  very  reverential  bow  replied: 

"  Most  gracious-  and  benevolent  ghost !  If  it  please  your 
majesty,  I  do." 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  the  King,"  the  treasure  is  there — 
beneath  that  very  stone,  I  say  :  do  you  hear  ?"  And  without 
more  ado,  to  impress  the  momentous  revelation  properly  on 
Joachim's  mind,  as  appeared,  he  seized  his  rubicund  nose  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  fore-finger,  and  gave  it  a  substantial  tweak. 

"I  do !  I  do !"  roared  Joachim  in  terror ;  "  if  it  please 
your  august  sovereignty  !" 

"  H«,ve  done  with  those  titular  distinctions,  Joachim  Blazo," 
said  the  ghost,  sternly.  "They  are  entirely  out  of  place  in 
my  present  abode.  I  am  no  longer  a  monarch  but  a  subject ; 
a  mere  shadow  of  a  man,  a  wreath  of  smoke,  a  puff  of  air. 
But  now  you  know  the  spot,  Joachim  !  Remember  !  Remem- 
ber !  Blood  was  shed  in  the  burial  of  these  treasures ;  and 
blood  must  be  shed  in  exhuming,  and  bringing  them  again  to 
upper  earth !" 

13 


290  6!4JfP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

The  ghost  then  proceeded  in  a  very  kind  and  familiar  man 
ner,  having  jfinished,  as  it  seemed,  the  graver  and  more  im- 
pressive parts  of  his  discourse,  and  perceiving  also  that  his 
listener  was  a  little  quavering,  in  consequence  of  his  mention 
of  blood,  to  impart  to  Joachim  some  concise  but  very  neces- 
sary instructions.  He  told  him  that  the  gold  must  be  reclaimed 
between  the  hours  of  midnight  and  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  that  the  digging  and  removal  must  be  conducted  in 
profound  silence,  so  far  as  the  human  voice  was  concerned — 
positively,  without  a  word  being  spoken.  He  furthermore 
instructed  him  how  to  describe  a  magic  circle  ;  a  thing  he 
might  very  properly  have  omitted,  as  Joachim  already  under- 
stood it  quite  as  well  as  himself:  and  imparted  to  him  several 
cabalistic  words,  by  the  utterance  of  which,  at  the  proper 
time,  and  under  the  prescribed  conditions,  the  proprietorship 
of  the  treasure  would  be  transferred  from  the  demons  under 
the  earth,  and. the  demons  of  the  air,  and  be  securely  vested 
in  himself. 

~  Having  at  last  finished  his  instructions,  and  urged  on  his 
listener  a  faithful  and  exact  adherence  to  them,  the  ghost  of 
the  Indian  King,  with  a  A^ery  complaisant  farewell,  vanished 
into  thin  air:  and  Joachim  awoke.  There,  just  above  him, 
waved  the  witch-hazel  limb,  as  when  he  sunk  into  repose  ;  and 
the  handkerchief  was  still  around  his  neck,  save  that  in  his 
battles  with  the  flies,  he  had  somewhat  enlarged  the  noose, 
and  worked  a  part  of  it  quite  up  against  his  nose.  Soon  he 
recollected  with  terror,  that  not  long  since  he  had  made  de- 
liberate preparations  to  hang  himself.  The  necessity  for  this 
extreme  proceeding  being  now  happily  obviated,  he  wondered 
at  the  folly  which  possessed  him.  He  could  not  look  at  the 
tree  without  a  shudder ;  and  hastily  drew  the  ominous  coil 
from  his  neck,  in  a  flurry  of  apprehension,  lest  a  plot  might 
exist  between  it  and  the  bush,  to  finish  the  operation  without 
consulting  him. 


JOACHIM'S  DREAM  FINISHED.  •"  291 

But  after  all,  he  had  barely  escaped  a  more  horrible  fate  as 
he  slept.  The  flies,  indeed,  had  nearly  murdered  him.  They 
must  have  tormented  him  for  sport  as  well  as  aliment ;  for 
his  nasal  organ  was  covered  with  blood ;  and  never  of  very 
moderate  dimensions,  was  now  swollen  to  a  double  size; 
while  eyes  and  lips  and  throat  and  hands  bore  unmistakable 
evidences  of  the  heartless  and  bloody  revel  in  which  they 
had  indulged. 

"But  the  gold!  the  gold!"  said  Joachim.  "I  am  the 
seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son  :  and  I  recollect  that  my  mother 
said  at  my  birth,  that  I  was  born  to  good  luck  and  a  fortune. 
Hurrah  !  for  Joachim  Blazo  !" 

Having  thus  given  vent  to  his  pent-up  emotions,  with  a 
shout  whose  echoes  reverberated  among  the  rocks  far  down 
the  mountain,  he  cut  a  stick  from  the  witch-hazel  tree,  both 
as  a  memento  and  a  wand  of  office :  and  feeling  by  this  time 
the  strong  cravings  of  hunger,  carefully  commenced  a  descent 
of  the  hill  toward  the  camp.  Nevertheless,  as  he  went, 
though  absolutely  torn  with  the  pangs  of  a  crying  appetite, 
having  now  eaten  nothing  for  nearly  twenty-four  hours,  he 
kept  out  a  cool  and  calculating  eye.  He  viewed  the  ship- 
loads of  treasure  in  the  mine  as  absolutely  his.  But  that 
immense  mountain,  whose  full  size  he  had  never  yet  been 
able  to  compass  even  with  his  eyes,  must  contain  oceans  of 
wealth  besides.  Perhaps  Providence,  in  its  inscrutable  wis- 
dom, intended  that  Joachim  Blazo  should  become  the  richest 
man  that  the  world  had  ever  known.  He  therefore  paused 
from  time  to  time,  and  dug  up  handfuls  of  earth,  and  exam- 
ined the  crevices  in  the  rocks ;  or  stopping  by  some  spring 
or  hillock,  he  held  his  witch-hazel  wand  over  a  particular 
spot  of  ground,  and  carefully  noted  the  indications.  Night 
found  him  thus  employed,  and  compassionately  drove  him 
home,  that  he  might  eat. 


Clja^tu   ®^irta-ug|t* 


MIDNIGHT  CONJURATIONS. 


"  And  now  our  orgies  let's  begin.' 


THOUGH  particularly  nettled  at  Ambrose,  the  first  thing 
Joachim  Blazo  did  on  his  return  to  the  camp,  after  filling 
his  stomach,  was  to  seek  that  individual  and  impart  to  him  his 
wondrous  and  joyous  success.  Between  the  two,  a  plan  for 
future  operations  was  very  shortly  matured.  Half  a  dozen  of 
the  boldest  and  sturdiest  rascals  in  the  fortress,  selected  from 
among  Don  Ferdinand's  followers,  the  particular  cronies  of 
Ambrose,  were  partly  let  into  their  counsels,  and  induced  to 
join  them.  No  time  was  to  be  lost :  they  determined  to  make 
a  beginning  of  the  business  that  very  night. 

But  Joachim  was  now  a  thorough  convert  to  the  theory  of 
threes,  and  had  little  faith  in  success  short  of  the  third  night ; 
and  could  he  in4iis  wisdom  have  contrived  any  way  of  com- 
ing at  the  third  period  of  the  series,  without  the  intervention 
of  the  first  two,  it  would  have  greatly  delighted  him.  But 
after  a  good  deal  of  perplexity  in  his  own  mind,  and  some  ar* 
gument  with  Ambrose,  as  he  could  not  just  at  the  moment  see 
his  way  clear,  he  felt  bound  in  candor  and  fairness  to  yield 
the  point. 

A  little  before  midnight,  according  to  appointment,  Joachim 
and  his  worthy  associates  issued  from  the  camp.  Their  ar- 
rangements were  now  deemed  fully  matured.  Conventional 
signs  had  been  substituted  in  the  place  of  words  ;  and  each 


MIDNIGHT  CONJURATIONS.  293 

one  was  to  take  his  cue  and  directions  immediately  from 
Blazo,  the  acknowledged  projector  and  leader  of  the  enter- 
prise. As  they  passed  along  the  causeway  in  the  direction 
of  the  mine,  all  were  struck  with  the  notion  that  there  was 
omething  peculiar  in  the  night.  The  moon  looked  sleepy 
and  colorless,  the  stars  were  small  and  distant ;  and  as  was 
afterward  testified  before  the  court  of  inquiry,  there  was  noth- 
ing human  either  in  the  atmosphere  or  earth.  The  sky  .was 
high  and  chalky,  and  the  ground  was  like  a  drum.  A  mere 
footfall  seemed  to  threaten  an  earthquake,  and  all  nature  ap- 
peared as  though  it  had  the  palsy. 

Little  moved  by  these  ominous  signs,  the  courageous  Blazo, 
bearing  the  witch-hazel  wand  before  him  in  his  right  Jiand,  in 
his  left  a  lantern,  entered  the  cave,  and  the  rest  with  more  or 
less  trepidation  followed.  The  red  and  blue  stone,  which  was 
to  designate  the  exact  locality  of  the  treasure,  was  readily 
discovered ;  indeed,  it  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  Joachim, 
he  having  dug  it  up  a  few  days  before,  and,  struck  with  its 
singular  appearance,  deposited  it  for  safe  keeping  in  an  ob- 
scure corner  of  the  mine,  where  it  was  now  found.  As  it  was 
triumphantly  pointed  out,  all  gazed  with  open  eyes,  and  ex- 
changed glances  of  silent  wonder  with  each  other. 

Blazo  now  gave  the  signal  agreed  on,  and  the  rest  fell  back 
a  few  paces,  leaving  him  alone  with  the  mysterious  stone. 
It  was  now  that  the  important  part  of  the  business — the  cere- 
monies for  the  disenchantment  of  the  treasure — was  to  com- 
mence. Cool  and  collected,  Joachim  turned  his  lantern  to  the 
right,  and  then  to  the  left.  Before  taking  any  decisive  step, 
he  determined  to  have  every  thing  clearly  arranged  in  his  own 
mind  ;  and  all  the  while  he  was  skillfully  laying  out  the  work 
that  was  _before  him.  His  companions  regarded  him  with 
equal  awe  and  admiration.  He  then  deliberately  drew  a  circle 
round  the  red  and  blue  stone  with  his  wand,  leaving  a  slight 
mark.     Next  he  strewed  along  the  line  a  plentiful  supply  of 


294  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN: 

some  fine  powder,  which  with  great  privacy  he  had  that  very 
evening  compounded.  To  be  sure,  this  last  had  not  been  di- 
rected by  the  ghost;  but  then  Joachim  had  a  recipe  for  such 
a  charm,  which  was  good  in  all  sorts  of  conjurations  ;  and  on 
ascertaining  that  he  could  procure  the  materials  from  Doctor 
Oquetos,  with  the  exception  of  one  article  which  he  decided 
to  be  unimportant,  to  make  certainty  more  sure,  he  determined 
to  employ  it. 

Fastening  a  lighted  match  to  the  end  of  his  wand,  Blazo 
now  took  his  station  within  the  magic  ring.  He  reverently 
bowed  to  the  east,  and  then  to  the  west ;  to  the  north,,  and 
again  to  the  south  ;  and  passing  his  flaming  brand  seven  times 
around  his  head  in  a  circle,  and  at  the  same  time  pronouncing 
the  cabalistic  sentence,  according  to  instructions,  he  set  fire 
to  the  train.  The  effect  was  immediate.  To  be  sure,  the 
powder  burned  slowly,  with  a  faint  blue  flame  and  a  most  in- 
tolerable stench  ;  but  the  potency  of  the  mystical  words  could 
not  be  gainsayed.  Eight  unimpeachable  witnesses  subse- 
quently affirmed,  that  no  sooner  were  they  uttered,  than  a 
rumbling  noise  was  heard,  the  ground  shook  under  their  feet, 
and  a  black  vapor  rolled  through  the  cave,  among  which 
strange  creatures  were  to  be  seen  flitting  about,  and  sighing 
and  screaming  as  they  went. 

But  seven  of  these  veracious  witnesses  did  not  long  re- 
main to  watch  the  progress  of  affairs.  In  pale  affright,  with 
their  noses  in  their  hands,  they  rushed  to  the  mouth  of  the 
mine  ;  wliile  Joachim,  the  hero  of  the  scene,  scorning  to  fly, 
was  left  alone  to  cope  with  the  visible  and  invisible  terrors  of 
the  hour.  But  luckily  he  knew  it  not.  The  clouds  with 
which  he  had  surrounded  himself,  eflfectually  concealed  from 
him  the  flight  of  his  companions.  He  supposed  their  eyes 
were  on  him  ;  and  though  at  this  period  it  is  quite  possible 
that  he  might  have  acknowledged  a  slight  degree  of  nervous- 
ness, in  spite  of  the  fumes  which  nearly  smothered  him,  and 


MIDNIORT  CONJURATIONS.  295 

the  mysterious  noises  which  filled  the  air,  and  the  alarming 
sounds  of  the  retreating  footsteps,  he  resolutely  stood  his 
ground. 

But  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  mortal  firmness  and 
courage  may  not  endure  ;  and  at  length  it  so  fell  out  that  a 
terrific  hoot  was  uttered  close  by  his  ear ;  and  immediately 
thereafter  an  unknown  thing — beast,  bird,  ghost,  or  devil,  he 
knew  not  what — came  full  butt  into  his  face.  Joachim  sent 
forth  one  loud,  long,  agonizing  groan,  which  seemed  to  come 
up  from  the  very  foundations  of  his  chest,  and  sunk  on  the 
ground  in  a  swoon. 

His  brave  companions,  at  that  trying  crisis,  had  just  gained 
the  open  air ;  yet  they  were  not  so  far  away  but  that  they 
distinctly  heard  the  solemn  sound  which  he  emitted  ;  where- 
upon they  came  to  the  sage  conclusion  that  he  had  been 
worsted  by  the  demons  he  had  raised,  and  very  likely  had 
been  carried  bodily  away.  They  made  slight  pause,  how- 
ever, in  their  flight,  until  they  had  gained  a  secure  distance 
from  the  theater  of  danger,  when  they  came  to  a  halt ;  and 
with  pale  faces  and  trembling  tongues  exchanged  congratula- 
tions with  each  other  over  their  marvelous  escape.  They 
puffed,  and  Mowed,  and  cleared  their  lungs  of  the  smoke,  and 
looked  wistfully  and  fearfully  back  at  the  mine.  All  there 
appeared  quiet  and  natural  enough,  save  that  a  slight  mist  was 
playing  around  the  terrible  mouth. 

"  Poor  Joachim  !"  said  one. 

"  He  has  gone  to  hisi  final  account,"  said  another. 

"  He  has  failed  in  his  silly  undertaking,"  said  a  third. 

"  He  has  died  as  the  fool  dieth,"  said  a  fourth. 

*'  He  has  met  with  his  just  deserts,  for  daring  to  disturb  the 
spirits  of  the  dead,"  said  a  fifth,  reverentially  crossing  himself. 

"  Saint  Pacomo  !"  exclaimed  a  sixth.  "  But  my  heart  mis- 
gave me  from  the  first.  I  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  this 
presumptuous,  wicked  business." 


296  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEK 

"  Fools  !  cowards  !"  exclaimed  Ambrose,  who  was  a  cool 
knave,  and  already  began  to  suspect  that  they  were  all  more 
scared  than  hurt.  "  I  wonder  what  you  are  prating  about ! 
If  the  mine  be  full  of  infernal  imps  from  the  pit,  I  for  one  am 
going  back  to  see  what  has  become  of  Blazo.  If  the  rest  of 
you  are  afraid,  stay  where  you  are,  or  sneak  off  into  your  beds." 

"  Afraid  !"  echoed  six  voices  at  once.  "  That  is  a  pretty 
story,  Ambrose.  The  stench  of  Joachim's  villainous  powder 
drove  us  all  out  for  breath,  and  you  among  the  rest ;  but  who 
talks  of  being  afraid  ?" 

"  Come  with  me,,  then,  my  lads,"  said  Ambrose.  "  It  shall 
never  be  said  that  I  deserted  a  comrade  in  the  hour  of  need." 

Thus  saying,  the  valiant  Ambrose  led  the  way  again  to  the 
mine.  First  reconnoitering,  they  then  cautiously  entered,  and 
slowly  approached  the  scene  of  the  late  incantations.  The 
witch-powder  had  ceased  to  burn,  and  the  fumes  and  the  smoke 
were  by  this  time  in  a  good  degree  dissipated.  Joachim's 
lantern  still  maintained  its  perpendicular,  emitting  a  faint  and 
flickering  light ;  and  by  its  side,  flat  on  his  back,  lay  the  im- 
mortal Blazo,  to  all  appearance  dead ;  while  an  expression 
of  awful  horror  sat  on  his  face,  sufficient  to  quail  the  stoutest 
heart,  even  of  those  bold  men  who  had  dared  to  return  to  the 
rescue.  Seizing  him  by  the  legs  and  arms,  however,  they 
speedily  dragged  him  to  the  open  air;  where,  as  the  inspiring 
breath  of  heaven  struck  him,  with  another  harrowing  groan,  he 
came  to  himself. 

"  Good  Joachim  !"  said  his  companions,  kindly  :  "  you  are 
safe.  Joachim!  Joachim!  do  you  hear?  you  are  safe.  We 
have  rescued  you,  at  terrible  odds,  to  be  sure ;  but  you  are 
now,  thanks  to  the  saints,  safe  and  sound,  we  hope." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !"  bellowed  Joachim,  as  he  struggled  lustily 
for  his  wind,  "  my  insides  are  all  burned  up,  and  my  outsides 
mauled  to  a  jelly.  1  never  shall  breathe  a  live  breath  again  as 
long  as  I  live." 


MIDNIGHT  CONJUBA'^IOirS.  297 

It  was  evident  that  nothing  further  could  be  accomplished: 
that  night :  indeed,  the  idea  of  again  venturing  into  the  mine 
was  not  mooted.  Supporting  old  Blazo  between  them,  the 
gold-seekers  silently  and  disconsolately  re-entered  the  camp, 
and  sneaked  away  to  their  several  quarters. 

The  next  day  they  presented  a  woe-begone  appearance. 
.  With  the  exception  of  Ambrose,  all  looked  troubled  and  care- 
worn, and  hung  their  heads  as  though  they  had  been  stealing 
sheep,  and  expected  to  be  detected.  He  was  composed  of 
too  brazen  materials,  and  was  too  well  schooled  in  deception, 
to  suffer  his  apprehensions  to  come  upon  the  surface  and  be 
seen  ;  and  so  only  appeared  as  though  he  had  spent  a  night  in 
debauch,  as  was  frequently  his  wont.  The  rest  bore  the  gibes 
of  their  companions  at  their  altered  demeanor  as  best  they 
might,  and  repented  them  that  they  had  had  any  thing  to  do 
with  an  undertaking  so  frightful.  As  night  approached,  how- 
ever, they  came  together  as  though  by  accident,  to  talk  of  the 
past  and  counsel  for  the  future. 

"  I  did  not  expect  success,  and  do  not  now,  short  of  the 
third  night,"  said  Joachim  Blazo ;  whose  great  soul  indulged 
no  thought  of  retreat;  and  who  had  ruminated  and  sweat  and 
suffered  so  much,  that  he  now  held  his  very  existence,  and  all 
beyond  in  which  he  was  interested,  staked  on  the  momentous 
hazard.  "  But  we  have  gained  the  right  of  possession  :  and 
our  victory  of  last  night,  I  am  thinking,  will  make  all  the  rest 
quite  easy." 

"  Think  you  so  ?"  said  Ambrose,  his  (J^uble-meaning  eye 
brightening. 

"  Verily  I  do,"  returned  Blazo.  "  We  stood  our  ground 
manfully." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  the  othef-s,  "  we  stood  our  ground." 

"  And  the  demons  retreated,"  continued  Joachim.  "  That 
was  evident  enough  from  the  noise." 

"  What  noise  ?"  asked  a  green  one. 
1.3* 


298  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

"  Why,  the  noise  they  made  in  running  away.  The  patter- 
ing of  their  feet,  down  in  the  ground,  sounded  as  though  there 
had  been  a  whole  troop.     Did  you  not  hear  it  ?" 

"  Aye,  aye,  to  be  sure.     We  heard  it,"  replied  they  all. 

"  Well,"  added  Blazo,  "  devils,  when  fairly  ousted,  scarcely 
ever  return  to  the  fight  again.  My  grandmother  often  said, 
that  once  soundly  flogged,  they  were  your  slaves  forever." 

"  But  we  did  have  a  terrible  time  of  it  last  night,  did  we 
not,  Joachim  ?"  said  Ambrose.  "  Nothing  but  your  presence 
of  mind,  and  my  bravery,  seconded  by  the  others,  saved  our 
lives,  surrounded  as  we  were  by  dangers  great  and  small. 
You  were  a  gone  sucker,  Blazo,  had  I  not  broke  through  and 
rescued  you,  at  the  risk  of  my  heart's  blood." 

"  Did  you  see  those  bats  flying  around  in  the  smoke  ?"  said 
the  green  one. 

"  Bats  ?"  echoed  another.  "  Why,  man,  they  were  twice  as 
big." 

"  Three  times,  at  least,"  said  still  another :  "  and  the  mine 
was  full  of  them." 

"  The  demon  that  battered  my  face,"  said  Joachim,  "  was 
of  the  size  of  a  goose,  and  shaped  like  an  owl.  He  had  claws 
like  an  eagle  and  fists  like  a  man." 

"  The  size  of  a  goose  !"  said  Ambrose.  "  It  was  all  of  that, 
Blazo.  I  saw  it  very  distinctly.  There  were  several  of  them, 
and  they  screamed  louder  than  so  many  panthers.  It  is  enough 
to  make  one's  blood  curdle  to  think  of  it." 

"  But  the  treasure  will  repay  us,"  said  Joachim.  "  You  shall 
all  be  made  rich  out  of  that,  richer  than  kings  or  even  priests." 

"  You  saw  the  heap  in  your  vision,  Joachim  ?"  said  one. 

"  Why,  yes,"  returned  Blazo.     "  To  be  sure  I  did." 

"  Well,  how  large  might  it  be  ?" 

"  It  was  so  mixed  up  with  the  bones,"  replied  Joachim, 
"that  I  could  not  exactly  tell.  It  was  a  big  pile,  however; 
as  big,  I  ghould  think,  as  a  considerable  sized  hill." 


MIDNIGHT  CONJURATIONS.  299 

*'  All  in  bars  of  gold  ?" 

«  Mainly." 

"  And  how  large  might  the  barsl^e  ?" 

"  Why,  man,"  said  the  perplexed  Joachim,  "  the  gold,  you 
see,  was  like  bars  of  iron.  It  shone  like  the  sun  :  it  flashed 
like  millions  of  diamonds,  until  my  eyes  were  dazzled,  and  all 
my  senses  overwhelmed." 

These  replies  were  deemed  satisfactory  and  conclusive : 
and  without  expressing  any  of  that  reluctance  to  proceed, 
which  each  had  felt  so  strongly  through  the  day,  they  set 
themselves  seriously  to  digesting  their  scheme  of  operations 
for  the  coming  hour  of  twelve. 


i^^ttx   il]irtB-ninK 


A    GRAND    CATASTROPHE. 


"  But  when  this  unexpected  foe 
Seemed  starting  from  the  gulf  bclow- 
I  care  not  though  the  truth  I  show — 
I  trembled  with  afTdght." 


PRECISELY  as  the  noon  of  night  wheeled  up  U  the  zenith, 
the  gallant  gold-diggers  were  on  the  ground.  But  it  is 
needless  to  detail  at  length  each  particular  occurrence  of  the 
night,  inasmuch  as  it  did  not  prove  to  be  the  final  period ;  and 
was  characterized  by  few  of  the  horrors  of  the  first.  SuflJice 
it  that  they  began  to  dig  within  the  charmed  borders  of  the 
mystic  ring ;  and  for  three  mortal  hours,  with  patient  sweat 
and  toil,  and  pick  and  bar  and  shovel,  continued  to  enlarge 
their  excavation.  The  supernatural  guard  over  the  treasure, 
which  had  given  them  so  much  trouble  the  night  before,  did 
not  see  fit  to  molest  them.  To  be  sure,  one  of  the  numbei 
afterward  deposed,  that,  having  left  his  work  for  a  brief  mo- 
ment, and  gone  out  to  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  a  thing  which  he 
denominated  a  laughing  devil  sat  upon  a  tree  nigh  by,  and 
with  the  most  extraordinary  sounds  and  grimaces  mocked  and 
derided  him.  But  this  item,  we  feel  bound  to  say,  should  be 
taken  with  some  grains  of  allowance,  for  the  several  reasons : 
that  it  was  testified  to  but  by  one  witness  ;  that  whatever  he 
saw  must  have  been  seen  by  a  very  faint  moonlight,  and  quite 
likely  while  in  a  state  of  considerable  excitement ;  and  lastly, 
that  the  existence  at  all  of  such  a  creature  as  a  laughing  devil 


A   GRAND  CATASTROPHK  301 

is  extremely  apocryphal,  as  it  is  not  described  in  any  of  our 
natural  histories  whatever. 

At  the  hour  of  three,  the  party,  thoroughly  tired  out,  but 
well  satisfied  with  the  omens  and  the  progress  they  had 
made,  after  carefully  concealing  the  pit  they  had  digged  with 
a  covering  of  timbers  and  earth,  adjourned  over  to  the  follow- 
ing night. 

On  the  next  day  they  felt  quite  at  liberty  to  indulge  in  a 
certain  gayety  of  mood,  and  to  solace  the  checkered  past,  its 
wants  and  cares  and  sorrows,  with  anticipations  of  a  brilliant 
future  :  and  this  happy  frame  of  mind  could  hardly  fail  to 
manifest  itself  in  their  deportment.  Accordingly  they  took 
airs  upon  themselves  and  quite  overtopped  their  fellows. 
They  threw  out  obscure  hints  of  important  changes  likely  to 
occur ;  and  expressed  themselves  with  a  freedom,  while 
speaking  of  their  superiors,  which  created  surprise,  and  was 
deemed  to  border  on  open  insubordination.  They  frequently 
run  together  in  a  knot ;  and  the  men  seeing  others  in  such 
close  brotherhood  with  Blazo,  made  up  their  minds  that  his 
madness  was  infectious:  and  piously  crossing  themselves, 
invoked  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar  to  shield  them  from  its 
influence. 

Indeed,  to  Joachim  and  his  co-workers,  all  ahead  looked 
smiling  enough.  Fortune  was  evidently  on  their  side  :  the 
legions  of  the  pit  had  been  vanquished  on  a  fair  Jield:  the 
third  night,  the  mystic  period  of  the  cycle,  big  with  the  award 
of  fate,  was  at  hand :  and  around  the  result,  uncertainties 
were  no  longer  suffered  to  linger. 

It  came;  and  from  the  going  down  of  the  sun;  from  the 
moment  that  the  breath  of  the  dusky  horses  of  darkness, 
usually  called  twilight,  was  discoverable  upon  the  mountain, 
it  was  plain  that  it  was  to  be  a  proper  night  for  a  crisis — a 
victory  or  a  catastrophe.  As  they  passed  out  of  the  camp 
and  took  their  way  toward  the  mine,  they  felt  that  they  wer« 


302  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TUE  RED  MEN. 

no  longer  sustained  by  that  perfect  satisfying  confidence  of 
success  which  had  buoyed  them  up  through  the  day.  They 
knew  of  no  solid  reasons  to  engender  doubts ;  but  then  tjie 
clouds  were  hurrying  in  black  masses  through  the  sky,  smoth- 
ering the  moon  and  stars :  the  winds  howled  dismally  around 
the  hill,  among  the  rocks,  and  through  the  shrieking  trees : 
and  every  breath  and  twig  and  spire  of  mountain  grass  seemed 
laden  with  a  voice.  The  spirits,  it  was^evident,  were  all 
abroad  for  work. 

"  We  shall  have  a  time  of  it  to-night,  I  am  thinking,"  ob- 
served Ambrose. 

*'  Blood  must  be  shed !"  muttered  Joachim  between  his 
teeth,  with  a  start ;  that  part  of  the  revelations  of  the  ghost, 
now  for  the  first  time  striking  him  with  its  full  force.  "  It 
may  be  Ambrose,  or  Pedro,  or  Gonzalez,  or  myself — who 
knows?" 

But  he  was  careful  that  these  half-spoken  harrowing  thoughts 
should  not  reach  the  ears  of  his  companions.  In  all  the 
relations  he  had  given  of  his  interviews  with  the  Indian 
King,  somehow  or  other  this  important  item  had  been  for- 
gotten :  and  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  add  to  the 
present  terror  and  dismay  of  his  followers  by  mentioning  it 
now.  Indeed,  the  fulfillment  of  the  asseveration  did  not  of 
necessity  involve  the  loss  of  life  :  and  if  it  did,  it  seemed 
quite  improbable  that  the  victim  should  be  one  of  his  own 
victorious  corps,  who  for  two  nights  had  maintained  their 
ground  against  the  combined  forces  of  the  whole  infernal 
world. 

But  on  this  night,  with  pity  be  it  spoken,  these  same  brave 
men  entered  the  mine,  the  scene  of  their  former  exploits, 
with  every  mark  of  abject  fear  written  on  their  faces.  Their 
rebellious  hearts  thumped  lustily  against  their  ribs  ;  the  fac- 
ulty of  respiration  was  obstructed,  so  that  they  breathed 
with  a  hollow  sound  ;  and  their  knees  smote  each  other  as 


A   GBAKD  CATASTROPHE.  303 

they  walked.  Being  dim  of  sight  withal,  it  is  hardly  prob- 
able that  they  were  fully  conscious  of  the  cowardly  demon- 
stration they  were  making ;  or  if  they  were,  they  prudently 
garnered  the  knowledge  for  the  inner  man,  and  carefully 
preserved  that  solemn  silence  to  which  they  were  forewarned 
by  the  ghost. 

Arrived  at  the  spot,  they  set  down  their  lights,  and  paused 
a  moment  to  take  breath.  Ambrose  was  pale  and  haggard 
enough  ;  while  Joachim  Blazo,  who  felt  that  on  his  shoul- 
ders rested  worlds  of  responsibility,  and  that  to  him  did  the 
others  look  as  a  sort  of  a  guide-board  for  the  direction  of 
their  own  demeanor,  assumed  to  feel  very  much  composed 
and  at  his  ease.  With  a  great  show  of  deliberation  he 
lighted  a  torch,  which  really  threw  its  glare  on  a  very  un- 
earthly scene. 

The  so-called  mine  was  in  effect  a  dreary  cavern,  extend- 
ing for  several  rods,  on  a  descending  plane,  into  the  body  of 
the  mountain.  One  of  its  sides  was  near  at  hand:  the 
others  were  lost  In  a  deep  obscurity,  a  darkness  visible,  which 
the  lanterns  and  the  torch  could  not  penetrate,  save  at  one 
point,  where  a  spot  like  a  faint,  ragged  moon  marked  the 
place  of  entrance.  Overhead  was  an  uneven  roof  of  loose 
slate  rock,  which,  as  it  crumbled  badly  on  being  exposed  to 
the  air,  it  had*  been  found  necessary  to  support :  and  scat- 
tered here  and  there  without  order,  were  the  rough  trunks  of 
forest  trees  doing  the  office  of  pillars.  The  gold-seekers 
gazed  fearfully  around.  Never  had  the  place  looked  so 
gloomy,  so  desolate,  so  sepulchral. 

Joachim  was  the  first  to  turn  to  work.  In  a  sort  of  des- 
peration he  seized  a  shovel,  and  the  others  followed  his  ex- 
ample. The  pit  was  very  shortly  uncovered,  and  the  dig- 
ging commenced.  For  near  two  hours  did  they  toil,  silently, 
incessantly,  and  without  untoward  accident  or  malicious  in- 
terruption.    As  the  excavation  was  somewhat  cramped  in  its 


304  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEK 

dimensions,  they  spelled  each  other,  part  holding  the  lights 
above,  while  others  delved  below. 

At  this  time,  Ambrose  and  Joachim  being  both  in  the  pit,  a 
low,  rumbling  sound  was  heard.     They  stopped  and  listened. 
It  continued  ;  and  was  plainly  just  beneath  their  feet.     With 
a  most  remarkable  prescience,  the  great  Blazo  at  once  per- 
ceived, or  thought  he  perceived,  that  their  invisible   enemy 
was  attempting  to  steal  the  march  on  them,  and  remove  the 
treasure.     Full  of  this  idea,  in  tremulous  alarm,  he  asked,  by 
signs,  for  a  crowbar,  which  was  quickly  placed  in  his  hands. 
Once  in  his  grasp,  he  elevated  it  aS  though  it  had  been  a  toy|  A 
and  with  vigorous  and  oft-repeated  strokes  applied  its  nether    ' 
point  to  the  lowest  depression  of  the  pit.     The  instrument 
came  in   contact  with,  and  struck,  a  solid  and    resounding 
something.     Without  doubt  it  was  a  wedge,  a  beam,  a  molten 
mass  of  gold :  and  thereupon  the  joy  of  the  old  man  inconti-    1 
nently  exploded,  like  a  discharge  of  beer. 

"  Bravo  !  I  have  it,  boys !"  he  shouted  :  and  the  substance 
against  which  the  iron  rested,  as  all  unitedly  averred,  slid 
away  with  a  grating  noise,  and  was  no  longer  there.  The 
spell  was  broken.  The  sound  of  a  human  voice  had  dissolved 
the  potent  charm  ;  and  the  demons  resumed  their  sWay. 

"  Fool !  fool !"  said  Ambrose,  "  you  have  ruined  all." 

"  Fool !  fool !"  echoed  the  rest :  and  the  eyes  of  all  glared 
furiously  on  Blazo,  their  wise  and  veteran  chief,  as  though 
they  thirsted  for  his  blood.  He  meanwhile  remained  more 
calm  than  could  have  been  expected.  Determined  forthwith 
to  satisfy  his  doubts,  and  to  remove  or  confirm  the  apprehen-  \ 
sions  of  his  followers,  again  he  reared  aloft  the  massive  iron; 
and  concentrating  his  Herculean  strength  in  one  good  blow, 
he  struck.  The  result,  no  language  can  depict.  Like  a 
blackened  ray  of  light,  like  a  harpoon  when  projected  at  a 
whale,  like  a  something  that  was  and  is  not,  the  crowbar,, 
without  a  sound  to  mark  its  flight,  shot,  or  was  wrenched   as 


A   GRAND   CATASTROPHE.  •  305 

he  declared,  out  of  his  hands,  and  disappeared  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  celestial  empire  of  China.  Immediately  a  noise 
was  heard,  whiz!  whiz  !  whiz  !  and  a  jet  of  water,  as  though 
propelled  from  the  hose  of  a  monster  fire-engine,  struck  the 
astonished  veteran  in  the  face,  and  subdivided  a  thousand 
different  ways,  in  flashing  streams,  in  diamond  drops,  in  sil- 
very spray,  immersing  all  in  a  cool  and  invigorating  bath. 
The  lights  were  extinguished :  and  an  exulting  laugh,  as  was 
deposed,  from  a  hundred  unseen  throats,  rung  through  the 
cavern,  followed  by  a  tremendous  concussion,  like  the  report 
of  a  piece  of  ordnance,  which  shook  the  mountain  'to  its 
center. 

This  was  too  much.  Terrified  to  madness,  with  cries  for 
mercy  which  they  did  not  expect  4o  find,  the  gold-diggers 
made  an  effort  to  escape.  But  each  one,  as  he  turned,  found 
himself  grappled  by  a  foe.  Ah,  then  indeed  commenced  the 
tug  of  war!  The  first  night's  horrors,  the  dread  witch-pow- 
ders and  the  choking  smoke,  the  screams  of  demons  and  the 
hoot  of  owls,  the  laughing  devils  and  the  flying  bats,  were 
naught  compared  to  this-  were  child's  play  to  the  battle  that 
now  raged ! 

The  good  Joachim,  as  he  clambered  up  from  the  pit,  f^jund 
himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  monster,  whose  eyes,  so  he  averred, 
were  live  coals,  whose  breath  was  a  burning  issue  of  sulphur. 
The  creature  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and  the  breathless 
hero,  as  a  last  chance,  gasping  forth,  "  Blood  must  be^shed," 
whipped  out  his  knife,  and  lunged  full  at  the  vitals  of  his 
adversary  :  whereupon  he  was  let  loose. 

Ambrose  did  not  escape  so  well.  On  the  rim  of  the  pit, 
a  shaggy  being,  which  he  described  as  an  anomalous  compound 
of  demon  and  brute,  clinched  him  in  his  arms.  After  a  short 
but  desperate  struggle,  in  which  he  performed  prodigies  of 
valor,  he  succeeded  in  getting  his  adversary  by  the  throat 
At  this  point,  an  unseen  blow,  he  was  inclined  to  think  from 


306         ■  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

a  supernal  pistol,  as  he  saw  a  flash,  struck  him  in  the  abdo- 
men, inflicting  a  severe  wound,  much  like  the  cut  of  a  knife. 
He  fell :  and  the  demon,  no  doubt  supposing  him  to  be  dead, 
left  him.  . 

Pedro,  at  the  culmination  of  the  catastrophe,  sprung  toward 
the  mouth  -of  the  mine.  He  was  headed  in  the  darkness, 
however,  by  an  immense  creature  whom  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  describe.  Still,  having  his  pickaxe  in  his  hand,  he 
aimed  a  random  blow,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  strike  him  j 
down.  But  at  the  same  instant  another  seized  him  by  the  i 
hair  of  his  head,  and  whisked  him  around  the  cave  as  though 
he  had  been  a  mere  dry  leaf  whirled  by  a  gust  of  autumn ; 
until  the  lock  giving  way,  he  escaped  with  a  flayed  poll,  and 
the  loss  of  a  portion  of  his  queue. 

Gonzalez,  after  a  short  engagement  with  some  nondescript 
being,  no  doubt  similar  in  most  respects  to  those  we  have 
attempted  to  describe,  was  prostrated  by  a  blow  which  frac- 
tured his  leg.  Bar  Jose,  another  of  the  party,  and  the  only 
one  whom  fortune  so  far  favored,  was  entirely  victorious. 
Following  the  example  of  a  celebrated  hero  at  the  siege  of 
Troy,  after  vanquishing  his  enemy,  he  seized  him  by  the  hair,  J 
and.  dragged  him  through  the  mine.  ^ 

The  rest  of  the  party  got  ofi*  with  only  slight  injuries :  and 
ere  long,  but  in  separate  parcels,  each  found  his  way  back  to 
the  camp.  But  truly  they  were  in  a  shocking  plight.  Their 
tattered  garments,  their  disfigured  faces,  their  blood  and 
wounds,  were  not  the  worst  of  it.  They  were  frenzied  with 
terror — for  the  time,  they  were  madmen :  and  though  their 
bodies  might  be  healed,  ten  to  one  the  hurts  to  the  invisible 
dweller  within  might  not  so  readily  recover. 


^ux  ioxtu* 


THE  COUBT  OF  INQUIRY.      LAST  HOURS    AND  CONFESSION  OF  A  VILLAIN.     TO 

ARMS  ! 


i 


"  Traitor,  thou  liest !» 


THE  groans  and  lamentations  of  the  gold-seekers,  as  they 
regained  the  camp,  produced  the  uproar  before  mentioned, 
which  aroused  the  Spanish  leaders  from  their  beds.  At  the 
investigation  which  succeeded,  most  of  the  preceding  facts 
and  incidents  were  brought  to  light,  clothed  in  an  abundance 
of  superstitious  and  fanciful  drapery,  which  imparted  to  it 
much  of  the  air  and  interest  of  a  romance. 

Accompanied  by  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  his  reverence 
Signor  Antonio,  and  Doctor  Oquetos,  as  members  of  the  board 
of  inquiry,  Don  Manuel  proceeded  to  the  mine.  They  found 
the  pit  of  the  treasure-seekers  full  of  water,  and  perceived 
that  a  spring  had  been  let  in  upon  the  works,  which  might 
give  them  some  trouble.  The  reported  concussion  was  read- 
ily accounted  for.  A  large  mass  of  rock  had  fallen  from  the 
roof  of  the  mine,  sufficient,  had  it  come  on  Joachim  and  his 
followers,  to  quiet  them  forever.  Bar  Jose  was  set  to  look 
for  the  tuft  of  hair,  which,  it  was  premised,  might  remain 
near  the  scene  of  his  exploit.  It  was  recovered :  and  on 
comparison,  was  found  to  correspond,  marvelously  well,  with 
the  black  locks  of  Pedro. 

After  a  patient  and  most  laborious  session,  and  a  critical 
examination  of  the  wounded,  on  the  part  of  Dr  Oquetos,  the 
opinion  of  the  court  was  rendered.     The  ^earned  doctor  him- 


308  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

self,  as  -the  one  best  qualified  to  deal  with  such  a  subject,  offi- 
ciated as  spokesman  ;  and  proceeded  to  declare  :  first,  that  the 
limb  of  Gonzalez  had  received  a  compound  fracture,  which, 
according  to  the  best  lights  of  science,  might  easily  have  been 
inflicted  by  a  certain  instrument,  vulgarly  called  a  pickaxe. 
Secondly,  that  the  wound  of  Ambrose  was  a  smooth  cut, 
which  might  very  well  have  been  produced  by  a  pointed  blade, 
like  that  of  Joachim  Blazo's  knife  ;  but  he  was  careful  to  add, 
that  that  powerful  and  mysterious  fluid,  known  as  electricity, 
occasionally  performs  surprising  antics  ;  and  that  it  is  a  chem- 
ical agent,  on  the  action  of  which  the  most  profound  acquaint- 
ance with  science  will  not  enable  one  to  calculate  with  pre^ 
cision.  "  Thirdly,  that  Blazo's  iron  bar,  might,  by  possibility, 
have  left  his  hands  from  the  force  of  its  own  gravity,  super- 
added to  the  momentum  of  his  stroke  ;  instead  of  having  been 
wrested  from  him  by  the  indignant  inhabitants  of  the  other 
world  ;  always  presupposing  the  existence  of  a  cavity  beneath, 
or  at  least  an  absence  of  solid  earth ;  which  in  the  present 
case,  should  his  supposition,  which  he  acknowledged  to  be 
novel,  prove  correct,  would  probably  be  found  to  be  a  subter- 
ranean fount.  This  theory,  he  was  of  the  opinion,  would  also 
account  for  the  presence  of  water  in  the  pit ;  and  to  render  it 
more  clear,  he  branched  off  in  a  long  and  learned  dissertation 
on  gravitation,  compressibility,  and  resistance,  which  we  need 
not  follow.  Fourthly,  that  it  was  certainly  possible  that  Bar 
Jose,  by  some  unaccountable  error,  in  the  confusion  af  the 
melee,  might  have  pulled  Pedro's  hair.  On  this  point,  he  was 
sorry  to  say,  an  honest  difference  of  opinion  existed  among 
the  members  of  the  bench.  While  some  of  them  were  dis- 
posed to  view  the  whole  affair  as  an  unfortunate  scuffle 
among  eight  individuals,  who  had  gradually  wroight  them- 
selves up  to  the  verge  of  idiocy  or  madness,  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  arrive  at  a  different  conclusion. 

What  that  precise  conclusion  was,  can  only  be  surmised 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A    VILLAIN—TO  ARMS.  309 


from  what  has  gone  before  :  for  at  this  point,  Don  Manuel, 
as  the  presiding  officer  of  the  board,  closed  the  proceedings. 

It  was  found  necessary  to  cut  a  drain  from  the  spring,  of 
which  the  renowned  Blazo  was  the  discoverer :  and  as  he, 
together  with  such  of  his  late  associates  as  were  not  disabled, 
was  put  into  the  trench,  they  had  abundant  opportunity  to 
explore  the  locality  about  which  their  day-dreams  still  lingered. 
The  crowbar  was  recovered :  but  the  unfortunate  words 
spoken  by  Joachim,  so  they  still  believed,  had  effectually  dis- 
sipated the  treasure.  Not  even  a  bone  was  discovered,  in 
fulfillment  of  what  they  considered  one  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary revelations  ever  vouchsafed  to  man.  Most  of  them, 
however,  gradually  forgot  their  glowing  expectations,  and  to 
appearance  sunk  back  into  their  former  moods.  But  on 
Joachim  Blazo  disappointment  wrought  its  fill.  He  never 
held  his  head  up  again.  Gloomy  and  dispirited,  he  became 
the  butt  of  many  a  jest  which  he  could  poorly  bear,  and  died  a 
broken-hearted  man. 

Insignificant  as  was  this  whole  matter,  on  it  was  fated  to 
hinge  that  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  the  Spaniards  which  the 
acute  reader  must  long  since  have  foreseen.  Don  Ferdmand 
had  now  completely  recovered.  The  confidence  with  which 
their  mining  operations  had  been  commenced,  for  some  time 
had  been  dwindling  away.  In  truth,  the  prosecution  of  the 
work,  though  still  ostensibly  continued,  was  even  now  a  mat- 
ter of  secondary  importance,  and  was  fast  becoming  a  mere 
by-play,  to  cover  other  and  more  engrossing  purposes.  The 
two  leaders  were  eyeing  each  other  like  hostile  generals, 
neither  of  whom  is  exactly  prepared  for  the  struggle  he  sees 
approaching ;  and  -the  mining  went  on,  and  the  customary 
routine  of  each  day  was  preserved,  lest  any  change  should  pre- 
cipitate the  denouement  before  its  time.  Don  Ferdinand,  to 
be  sure,  often  stormed  and  sometimes  threatened,  but  still 
hesitated:  while  Don  Manuel,  surrounded  by  difficulties  which 


310  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

he  could  perceive  no  way  to  surmount,  courted  delay,  and 
soothed  and  braved  by  turns,  hoping  a  salvation  for  "his 
daughter  and  himself,  of  which  he  could  see  no  promise  in 
their  sky. 

While  things  were  in  this  posture,  he  was  one  day  informed 
by  Signer  Antonio  that  Don  Ferdinand's  servant,  Ambrose, 
was  almost  at  the  last  gasp,  and  very  urgent  to  see  him.  He 
was  surprised  at  this,  as  the  chevalier  had  assured  him  from 
time  to  time  that  his  valet's  wounds  were  not  dangerous,  and 
that  he  was  rapidly  recovering.  He  at  once  accompanied  the 
priest  to  the  quarters  of  the  domestic  ;  and  perceived  at  a 
glance  that  the  prognostic  of  the  good  father  was  likely  to 
prove  too  true.  Death,  it  was  evident,  had  arrived  in  the 
tent  before  him,  and  was  already  engaged  in  the  execution  of 
his  work.  To  support  him,  in  this  trying  hour,  the  wretched 
man  could  find  no  aids  within.  No  God,  no  Christ,  no  ap- 
proving conscience,  had  been  there  for  years ;  and  he  could 
only  look  with  agony  and  terror  to  his  priest ;  while  on  his 
face,  as  legibly  as  though  written  with  a  point  of  steel,  were 
shadowed  forth  the  horrors  of  an  ill-spent  life. 

Don  Ferdinand  and  Doctor  Oquetos  were  both  present. 
The  chevalier  started  and  turned  pale  as  Don  Manuel  entered. 

"  Ambrose  is  not  so  bad  as  they  pretend,''  said  he.  "  All 
he  needs  is  a  little  quiet.  Let  us  leave  him  that  he  may  sleep. 
Father  Antonio  will  sit  by  him." 

Doctor  Oquetos  here  commenced  to  give  a  scientific 
opinion  of  the  case,  which  was  interrupted  by  the  dying  man. 

"  Leave  me,"  he  said,  faintly,  "  all  but  his  excellenza,  Don 
Manuel  Torrillo." 

The  doctor  and  the  priest  withdrew.  Don  Ferdinand,  with 
an  obviously  increasing  restlessness,  remained. 

"  Leave  me  !"  said  Ambrose,  iimpatiently. 

"  I  can  not  at  such  a  moment  as  this,"  gasped  the  chevalier. 

"  Base  tempter !"  said  Ambrose  :  "  your  gold  at  last  has  lost 


CONFESSIONS   }F  A    VILLAIN— TO  ARMS.  311 

its  power  over  me.  I  am  no  longer  your  slave.  I  am  now, 
fof  the  brief  space  that  may  remain  to  me,  free." 

♦'  Villain !"  exclaimed  Don  Ferdinand,  in  a  voice  which 
seemed  to  issue  from  his  chest,  independent  of  the  vocal 
organs,  so  deep  and  husky  was  it,  "  where  are  your  oaths  ?" 

Thus  saying,  he  sprung  like  an  enraged  beast,  and  seized 
the  expiring  wretch  by  the  throat.  The  act  took  Don  Manuel 
entirely  by  surprise.  Unexpectedly  called  to  the  chamber  of 
death,  he  had  regarded  the  extraordinary  scene  which  there 
presented  itself,  with  dismay.  Now*  however,  arousing  his 
stupefied  faculties,  he  stepped  in  to  the  rescue.  Seizing  the 
infuriated  chevalier,  he  unclasped  his  hands  from  his  victim, 
and  shouted  for  aid.  The  doctor  and  the  priest  who  were  in 
waiting  without,  immediately  entered  :  and  Don  Ferdinand, 
casting  about  him  a  mingled  look  of  fury  and  defiance,  rushed 
from  the  tent. 

It  was  some  time  before  poor  Ambrose  was  sufficiently 
recovered  to  speak ;  and  meanwhile,  Don  Manuel,  shocked 
beyond  measure  at  what  had  occurred,  proposed  to  retire ; 
when  an  impatient  gesture  from  the  dying  man  detained  him. 

"  You  must  hear  me  now,  my  lord,  or  never,"  said  he,  with 
difficulty.  "  I  would  do  one  act  of  justice  before  I  die.  O 
for  strength !  0  for  a  voice  once  m©re !  I  have  made  my 
confession.  Father  Antonio  has  it.  Let  him  read,  and  I  will 
confirm  its  truth." 

The  reverend  father  produced  the  paper  in  question,  and 
read  it  to  his  astonished  auditors,  the  truth  of  each  period 
being  solemnly  affirmed  by  Ambrose  as.  he  proceeded.  The 
important  points,  stripped  of  a  mass  of  useless  words  which 
only  served  to  becloud  them,  were  : 

That  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  already  had  one  wife  living 
in  Spain,  the  sister  of  the  confessor,  whom  he  had  found  it 
impossible  to  seduce  to  his  purposes,  and  so  had  secretly  but 
lawfully  married.  ' 


312  OAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

That  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  was  directly  the  accuser 
of  Don  Manuel  Torrillo  at  the  court  of  his  sovereign,  with  the 
purpose  of  humbling  the  pride  of  the  Lady  Viola,  and  reducing 
both  father  and  daughter  to  his  power :  which  had  resulted 
in  the  confiscation  of  the  estates,  and  the  exile  of  Don 
Manuel. 

That  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  had  twice  attempted  the 
assassination  of  Captain  Charles  Warwick,  once  in  New  York, 
when  Ambrose  himself  was  the  instrument,  and  again  at  their 
late  meeting  by  the  river. 

That  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino  had  boasted  to  the  con- 
fessor, that  he  slew  the  Indian  guide  who  conducted  him 
back  to  camp  on  the  occasion  of  his  brief  captivity  with  the 
natives. 

And  furthermore,  that  Don  Ferdinand  was  now  tampering 
with  the  men,  those  immediately  attached  to  Don  Manuel, 
with  the  view  to  a  mutiny  or  outbreak,  which  should  place  all, 
particularly  the  Lady  Viola,  at  his  disposal :  and  that  if  her 
father  expected  to  save  her  or  himself,  he  had  not  a  moment 
to  lose. 

Don  Manuel  was  confounded.  Some  of  these  charges  he 
already  had  good  reason  to  believe  correct,  and  the  rest  might 
well  be.  Unfortunately  there  was  nothing  in  the  character  of 
the  man,  as  he  now  regarded  it,  calculated  to  throw  doubt  on 
the  solemn  dying  declarations  of  his  domestic,  and  his  own 
heart  told  him  they  were  true.  He  therefore  thanked  the 
miserable  wretch,  and,  at  his  request,  kindly  forgave  him,  so 
far  as  his  agency  in  the  machinations  of  his  master  had  been 
directed  against  him  or  his.  Recommending  him  to  look  up 
to  God  as  his  only  refuge  and  hope,  and  committing  him  for 
the  brief  period  of  life  that  might  still  remain,  to  the  care  and 
consolation  of  the  doctor  and  the  priest,  he  then  bade  him 
farewell. 

As  he  passed  to  his  own  quarters,  Don  Manuel  did  not 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A    VILLAIN— TO  ARMS.  313 

observe  anything  to  excite  alarm.  AH  appeared  as  usual, 
except  that  scarcely  any  one  was  to  be  seen,  and  the  whole 
fortress  wa^  as  still  and  breathless  as  the  sick  chamber  he 
had  just  left.  Ascertaining  that  his  daughter  was  safe,  be  at 
once  ordered  the  drums  to  beat  to  arms.  The  call  was 
sounded ;  that  call,  in  obedience  to  which  the  united  Spanish 
forces  had  never  failed  to  gather  around  him  and  acknowledge 
him  as  their  senior  chief.  Now,  Hugh  O'Brady,  Solyman, 
and  a  few  veterans,  who  had  long  been  in  his  service  and 
were  attached  to  his  person,  alone  obeyed  the  summons.  He 
cast  his  eyes  over  them,  and  though  he  compelled  his  features 
to  remain  unmoved,  at  his  heart  he  was  in  terror.  But  better 
one  true  sword  than  many  traitors.  This  handful  could  be 
trusted.  There  was  no  doubt  on  their  faces.  They  came 
together  with  alacrity,  and  ranged  themselves  by  his  side  with 
that  resolute  bearing,  the  compressed  mouth,  and  open,  steady 
eye,  which  showed  that  they  had  deliberately  chosen  their 
part,  and  intended  to  abide  it.  He  looked  around  for  John- 
son, but  the  veteran,  a  host  in  himself,  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen. 

But  a  few  moments  elapsed'  before  Don  Ferdinand,  at  the 
head  of  the  great  body  of  the  men,  wheeled  into  view  from 
the  rear  of  his  own  quarters  and  confronted  him.  Don  Man- 
uel's countenance  glowed  with  indignation.  Smothering  his 
feelings,  however,  he  returned  his  half-drawn  sword  to  its 
scabbard ;  and  advancing  a  few  paces  alone,  said : 

"  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  and  all  ye,  good  and  true 
men,  answer  me,  I  pray  you !  Why  stand  ye  here  in  arms 
against  your  chief  ?  Your  wrongs  I  have  never  refused  to 
right.     I  have  been  true  to  you — why  are  you  not  true  to  me  ?" 

"  Most  gracious  sire,'*  returned  Don  Ferdmand,  in  a  pre- 
tended meek  and  mock  heroic  tone,  ".we  humbly  ask  justice 
for  your  faithful  liege,  Ferdinand  of  Cassino.  Nay,"  continued 
he,  throwing  off  the  mask  of  the  suppliant,  and  assuming  that 

14 


314  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN". 

pompous,  defiant  manner  which  was  more  natural  to  him,  "  we 
not  only  ask,  we  demand  it." 

"  Of  what  injustice,  pray,  can  Ferdinand  of  Cassino,  the 
faithful,  complain  ?"  said  Don  Manuel,  in  a  tone  of  bitter 
irony  which  he  could  not  well  repress. 

"  He  complains,"  replied  Don  Ferdinand,  "  that  the  most 
solemn  engagements  on  the  part  of  Don  Manuel  Torrillo  and 
his  daughter  are  not  fulfilled  ;  that  contracts  the  most  sacred, 
made  in  the  presence  of  high  heaven  and  our  holy  church,  are 
by  them  disregarded  and  cast  aside  as  things  of  no  account 
And,  furthermore,  he  swears  that  he  will  submit  to  such  treat- 
ment no  longer.  But  to  show  his  unparalleled  forbearance, 
before  all  these  witnesses,  he  once  more  condescends  to  ask 
that  the  long-pending  marriage  between  himself  and  the  Lady 
Viola  Torrillo  be  solemnized.  If  this  be  acceded  to,  it  is 
well ;  if  not,  the  consequences  be  on  your  own  heads." 

Don  Ferdinand  paused  ;  and  his  followers  manifested  their 
satisfaction  with  applause.  Don  Manuel  was  about  to  reply, 
when  the  Lady  Viola,  pale  and  haggard  with  affright,  looking 
more  like  an  inhabitant  of  another  world  than  a  being  of  flesh 
and  blood,  rushed  before  him,  and,  seizing  him  by  the  hand, 
wildly  exclaimed : 

"  The  sacrifice  must  be  made.     Father,  I  am  ready!" 

A  low  murmur  of  commiseration  ran  through  the  ranks  of 
both  parties,  and  many  of  the  men  in  pity,  for  the  moment 
averted  their  eyes. 

."  She  can  at  least  have  a  little  time  for  preparation,"  said  a 
bold  soldier  in  Don  Ferdinand's  own  ranks. 

-  "  Yes,"  said  another,  "  the  marriage  can  be  put  off  till  to- 
morrow to  please  her,  now  she  has  agreed  to  have  him." 

Don  Ferdinand  frowned  and  bit  his  lips 

"  Silence,  knaves,"  said  he.  "  To-morrow,  and  to-morrow ! 
I  have  sworn  it  should  be  to-day." 

Don  Manuel,  meanwhile,  was  pressing  his  weeping  daugh- 


COHTFESSIONS  OF  A  VILLAIN— TO  ARMS.  315 

ter  to  his  breast.  Imprinting  an  affectionate  kiss  on  her  fore- 
head, he  released  himself  from  her,  but  still  held  her  by  the 
hand. 

"  Viola !"  said  he,  very  deliberately,  and  in  a  tone  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  by  every  ear  present ;  "  in  the  fearful 
presence  of  that  Being  who  created  us  all,  I  swear  you  shall 
never,  never  be  the  wife  of  Ferdinand  of  Cassino." 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  save  you,  father  ?"  said  the  Lady 
Viola,  imploringly. 

"  Life  is  not  worth  the  sacrifice,  my  dear,"  returned  Don 
Manuel,  calmly.     "  I  am  willing  to  die,  if  it  be  God's  will." 

"  We  will  die  together,"  said  the  maiden.  "It  is  sweet  to 
trust  ourselves  to  God." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  your  t^te-a-t^te,"  said  Don  Ferdi- 
nand with  a  sneer ;  "  but  I  must  remind  you  that  I  am  here  to 
claim  the  fulfillment  of  a  contract.  The  parties  are  present,  the 
priest  is  here.     Do  you  refuse  to  have  the  ceremony  go  on?" 

"  In  the  name  of  justice  and  mercy,  I  do,"  said  Don  Man- 
uel. "  Has  the  chevalier  Cassino  a  dispensation  from  the  holy 
mother  church,  that  he  would  take  a  second  wife,  while  he 
already  has  one  living  ?" 

"  It  is  false,  false  as  hell !"  exclaimed  Don  Ferdinand, 
stamping  his  foot  with  rage.  "  You  have  been  listening  to  the 
ravings  of  Ambrose  in  his  insanity.  Poor  fellow,  he  once  got 
the  strange  notion  into  his  head  that  because  he  had  a 
handsome  sister,  I  might  be  prevailed  on  to  marry  her,  and 
make  him  a  great  man  ;  and  now  that  his  mind  is  wandering, 
he  has  stumbled  on  the  subject  again.  But  here  are  Pedro, 
Bar  Jose,  Gonzalez,  and  others,  born  on  my  own  estates,  who 
have  known  me  from  infancy.  Ask  them.  They  will  tell 
you  I  have  never  been  married." 

"  Oh,  no !"  said  Pedro  and  the  rest,  thus  appealed  to. 
"  Our  lord  has  never  been  married.  We  are  ready  to  swear 
to  that  on  the  holy  evangelists." 


316  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TITB  RED  MEN. 

"  Don  Ferdinand,"  said  Don  Manuel,  "  I  do  not  wish  to 
pursue  this  subject  further,  before  this  crowd  of  menials,  yours 
and  mine ;  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  say  that  I  now  know  you, 
that  my  eyes  have  been  gradually  opening  to  your  qualities 
for  many  weeks.  I  am  willing  to  negotiate  with  you  fairly 
and  honorably  for  an  adjustment  of  all  our  differences.  But 
expect  nothing  beyond  that  from  me.  You  can  but  have  our 
lives  ;  and  to  that,  if  need  be,  I  and  my  sweet  child  will 
submit." 

"  Give  them  until  to-morrow,"  said  a  voice. 

"  Till  to-morrow !  to-morrow  !"  repeated  several  others. 

Don  Ferdinand  scowled,  and  stamped,  and  swore;  but*t 
was  evident  that  he  wavered. 

"  Till  to-morrow  be  it  then,"  at  length  he  said.  "  Don 
Manuel  Torrillo,  I  give  you  till  to-morrow  noon  to  redeem 
your  word  and  written  pledge.  At  the  hour  of  twelve  to- 
morrow the  Lady  Viola  Torrillo  becomes  the  wife  of  Fer- 
dinand of  Cassino.  I  grant  a  truce  till  then  ;  that'  she  may 
learn  to  brace  her  nerves  against  that  maiden  terror  always 
so  graceful  in  her  sex." 

Thus  saying  Don  Ferdinand  withdrew  his  forces  ;  and  Don 
Manuel  led  his  daughter,  on  whose  face  a  sweet  and  trustful 
calm  now  rested,  like  the  glow  of  morning  on  the  brow  of 
night,  into  his  quarters.  But  where  was  good  Michael  John- 
son in  this  emergency  ?  Don  Manuel  and  his  daughter,  dur- 
ing the  last  trying  hour,  had  anxiously  and  oft  expected  him, 
but  he  came  not ;  and  now  all  their  inquiries  were  in  vain. 
No  one  had  seen  him  sincatan  early  period  of  the  day. 


apitr  |jofrt2-janK 


OUB   HEBO    IN    HIS  EYRIE  ON  THE   HILLS.     A  YOUNG    MAN'S  BETEBIES 

THE  SOLITUDES  OF  NATURE. 


"  There  Is  a  pleasure  In  the  pathless  -woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  Ipnely  shore. 
There  is  society  where  none  intrudes, 

By  the  deep  sea  and  music  in  its  roar. 
I  love  not  man  the  less  but  nature  more 

From  these  our  interviews,  in  which  I  steal 
From  all  I  may  be,  or  have  been  before, 
To  mingle  with  the  universe  and  feel 
What  1  can  ne'er  express,  yet  can  not  all  conceal.' 


WHEN  Charles  Warwick  reached  the  Susquehanna,  on 
the  night  he  bade  adieu  to  the  Spanish  fortress,  de- 
pressed and  beclouded  as  he  was  in  mind,  he  could  not  but 
pause  and  admire  the  calm  river,  and  the  mock  firmament 
of  moon  and  stars,  which  nature,  with  exceeding  art,  had 
penciled  in  the  water.  What  painter  with  his  wizard  brush, 
and  pallet  where  his  flashing  colors  glow,  though  wrought 
with  magic  from  the  mine,  or  robbed  from  flies,  or  stolen  from 
the  sun,  can  hope  to  rival  her  ?  Those  trees  that  hang  adown 
the  crystal  deep  wave  their  bright  wings  for  joy;  and  all  the 
mass  of  molten  silver  seems  an  open  window  back  to  paradise. 
Warwick  looked  and  sighed  and  prayed,  and  became 
peaceful  like  the  scene  before  him.  The  beautiful,  as  is  its 
proper  office,  led  him  up  to  heaven  ;  and  he  that  looks  above 
finds  rest.  In  a  better  frame  of  mind  he  turned  his  footsteps 
up  the  river.  Not  that  he  had  any  particular  object  in  going 
in  that  direction  more  than  another  ;  but  he  wished  to  find 
some  nook  where  he  might  lie  concealed,  and  from  it,  like  the 


318  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

eagle  from  his  eyrie,  watch  his  foes,  and  fly  in  case  of  need 
to  serve  his  friends.  One  vision  of  sorrow  and  beauty  filled 
his  soul.  It  was  the  Lady  Viola—  the  fearful  circumstances 
in  which  she  was  left — and  his  parting  from  her,  perhaps  for- 
ever. 

Thus  occupied  in  mind,  he  moved  heedlessly  on,  following 
the  curves  of  the  river,  sometimes  in  the  full  light  of  a  brilliant 
moon,  and  again  groping  his  way  through  trees  and  tangled 
shrubs  and  over  shelving  cliffs.  Alwyn  followed  at  his  heels, 
with  that  noiseless  tread  peculiar  to  his  race,  stopping  when 
he  stopped,  and  moving  as  he  moved,  as  though  he  had  been 
his  shadow  ;  and  through  the  whole  night  he  ventured  not  to 
speak,  until  the  lighting  up  of  the  east  showed  that  morn  was 
breaking.  Then  he  called  Warwick's  attention  to  the  fact ; 
and  informed  him  in  addition  that  they  were  approaching  an 
Indian  settlement. 

Not  caring  to  meet  with  any  of  the  natives,  the  young  soldier 
came  to  a  halt,  and  took  counsel  of  his  watchful  companion. 
Then  turning  to  the  left  among  the  hills,  the  two  proceeded  for 
some  miles  through  a  wild  and  broken  region  of  dense  forest, 
until,  as  they  judged,  they  were  far  enough  away  from  the 
villages  and  haunts  of  the  natives  to  remain  for  a  few  days 
undisturbed.  Making  choice  of  a  retired  glen,  a  few  hours 
sufficed  to  erect  a  rude  hut  of  poles  and  bark  for  their  accom- 
modation. 

When  this  was  accomplished,  Warwick  threw  himself  on 
the  ground,  and  yielded  himself  up  to  his  unbroken  fancies. 
There  he  lay,  his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  and  for  hours 
moved  not.  The  faithful  Alwyn,  meanwhile,  sat  silently  by, 
or  sought,  near  at  hand,  for  such  roots,  known  to  the  Indians, 
and  wild  fruits,  as  might  serve  to  lengthen  out  their  scanty 
supply  of  food.  Night  came,  was  succeeded  by  day,  and  was 
nearly  at  hand  again,  when  Warwick  arose,  and  directing 
Alwyn  to  remain  behind,  disappeared  in  the  forest. 


A   YOTJNQ  MA2P8  REVERIES.  319 

The  young  Indian  waited  long  and  anxiously  for  the  return 
of  his  master,  which  was  not  until  late  in  the  following  morn- 
ing, when  he  made  his  appearance  worn  out  with  fatigue  and 
want  of  sleep.  He  entered  the  little  lodge,  took  some  re- 
freshment, and  throwing  himself  on  a  bed  of  leaves  which 
Alwyn  had  gathered,  slept  long  and  quietly. 

Notwithstanding  this  intense  and  prolonged  concentration 
of  thought  and  feeling  on  one  object,  the  mind  of  Charles 
Warwick  was  a  well-balanced  one.  True,  it  was  of  a  vivid 
kind.  Ardent  and  imaginative,  he  felt  warmly  and  quickly  ; 
but  he  acted,  when  the  hour  of  action  came,  deliberately. 
The  circumstances  of  his  life  had  thrown  him  on  himself,  and 
had  taught  him  well  for  his  years  how  to  examine,  to  decide, 
and  to  act ;  and  though  passion  might  be  strong,  and  imagina- 
tion restles^  and  buoyant,  a  cool  judgment  was  still  the  anchor 
of  the  youth.  But  when  there  could  be  no  action  for  a  coun- 
terpoise, as  in  the  present  case,  and  affection,  hope,  and  fear 
had  all  been  spurred  to  frenzy,  then  came  the  strong  dominion 
of  feelmg,  sufficient  with  him  to  shut  up  and  paralyze,  for  the 
time,  all  his  external  senses,  and  to  center  his  being  in  a 
single  thought. 

Such  had  been  the  condition  of  Warwick  from  which  he 
aroused  himself  only  at  the  moment,  when  he  determined  at 
all  hazards  to  ascertain  the  situation  of  affairs  at  the  fortress. 
This  he  accomplished ;  and  succeeded  undiscovered  in  gain- 
ing the  presence  of  Michael  Johnson,  from  whom  he  obtained 
such  information  as  did  much  toward  quieting  his  immediate 
apprehensions. 

For  some  days  thereafter,  Alwyn  was  much  of  the  time 
hovering  about  the  Spanish  camp,  spying  into  its  movements, 
and  resorting  to  a  hundred  Indian  devices  to  conceal  himself 
from  observation  ;  and  but  little  of  moment  occurred  there 
which  he  was  not  prepared  to  report  to  his  master.  Occa- 
sionally he  fell  in  with  Johnson  ;  and  once,  as  has  been  seen, 


320  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

he  ventured  to  discover  himself  to  the  Lady  Viola  and  her 
maid. 

Warwick,  meanwhile,  was  left  to  the  resources  of  his  own 
thoughts.  He  strove  against  the  unmanly  weaknesses,  as  he 
was  fain  to  call  them,  which  beset  him  ;  and  endeavored  to 
amuse  himself  by  hunting  among  the  hills  and  fishing  in  the 
mountain  streams.  Still  he  lived  but  in  a  waking  dream. 
One  single  subject  engrossed  his  soul ;  he  could  not  drive  it 
hence,  and  with  others  it  refused  to  mingle.  In  the  bright 
realms  of  imagination  he  discovered  a  variety  of  ways  in  which 
fortune  might  still  be  kind :  and  Viola  his,  the  waves  of  his 
troubled  sea  were  still,  the  breeze  was  fresh  and  balmy,  the 
sky  serene,  and  the  voyage  of  life  a  brilliant  succession  of 
delights.  But  close  by  these  fond  fancies  were  scowling 
terrors  looking  in  upon  him,  whispering  or  screaming  in  his 
ears  that  hope  was  merest  lunacy,  and  Viola  lost  forever.  In 
this  light,  existence  itself  was  a  desert,  with  burning  sand? 
and  hot,  depressing  air,  without  a  flower  or  blade  of  grass,  oi 
cooling  drop  of  rain  j  and  he  pictured  out  a  few  brief  years 
of  misanthropic  being ;  and  himself,  though  still  a  youth,  in 
the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  and  ready  for  the  grave. 

And  was  he  then  so  completely  a  slave,  fettered,  bound  in 
the  triple  chains  of  the  subtile  divinity,  so  that  every  aspira- 
tion of  the  future,  and  even  life  itself,  were  at  the  mercy  of 
the  stubborn  child  ?  Ah,  like  enough  ;  and  he  need  not  have 
blushed  nor  pronounced  it  a  weakness.  Others  were  there 
before  him,  and  many  more  will  follow  in  the  track.  Nature 
hath  ordained  it ;  and  god  or  no  god,  a  giant  or  an  infant, 
whether  with  silken  bands  or  gyves  of  steel,  he  found  himself 
subdued  by  that  passion  which  the  fabled  deity  is  supposed 
to  inspire  ;  one  moment  yielding  to  the  glowing  sunlight  of 
hope,  and  the  next  playing  with  despair.  Often  as  he  rambled, 
his  gun  and  rod  were  forgotten,  and  he  walked  unconscious 
of  the  things  around  him.     Again  he  would  awake,  and  look 


A    YOUNG  .MAIPS  REVERIES.  321 

abroad,  and  listen  to  the  birds,  and  join  them  in  their  songs ; 
or  pausing  on  some  bold  hill,  he  would  scan  the  unbroken 
wild,  and  fancy  that  the  solitude  of  the  woods  was  but  a  type 
of  that  much  more  profound  which  reigned  within  himself. 

But  nature's  forests  are  no  solitudes.  True,  man  may  not 
be  there.  The  hammer  and  the  axe,  the  plow,  the  marble 
palace,  and  the  clang  of  war  may  all  be  wanting,  and  still  the- 
woods  be  full  of  stir  and  life.  They  are  the  workshops  of 
the  Creator.  Men  and  their  achievements,  the  music  of  their 
voices  and  their  harps,  their  eloquent  words,  their  poetry  and 
their  smiles,  the  subtile  philosophy  of  their  schools,  the  tri- 
umphs of  their  art,  and  the  monuments  of  their  glory  and  dis- 
grace, are  not  needed  there.  Creative  nature  in  her  conse- 
crated halls  has  a  power,  a  music,  a  poetry,  a  philosophy,  and 
a  splendor  all  her  own.  The  waking  into  being  of  her  germs, 
whence  are  to  spring  alike  her  monarchs  and  her  vines  ;  the 
training  of  her  foliage  and  the  painting  of  her  flowers,  the 
molding  and  ripening  of  her  fruits,  and  the  distilling  of  her 
perfumes,  these  are  her  forest  works.  They  teach  us  the 
power  and  glory  of  the  Supreme  ;  and  though  man  may  never 
see  them,  they  are  not  the  less  admirable  ;  though  they  sub- 
serve not  his  pleasures  or  his  wants,  they  furnish  food  and 
shelter  to  a  profusion  of  animated  life,  absolutely  startling  in 
its  vastness  and  beauty,  bowers  for  the  tuneful  birds,  and  lodges 
for  the  beasts  and  insects,  and  harp-strings  for  the  sweeping 
winds  of  heaven. 

14* 


DESPONDKNOY.     AN  ANTIQUE  LETTER.     INACTION  AND  ITS  CONSKQUKNOES. 

"  Fancy  enervates,  while  It  soothes  the  heart, 

And  while  it  dazzles  wounds  the  mental  sight : 
To  joy  each  heightening  charm  It  can  impart, 

But  wraps  the  hour  of  woe  in  tenfold  night. 

And  often  when  no  real  ills  affright, 
Its  visionary  fiends,  an  endless  train, 

Assail  with  equal  or  superior  might, 
And  through  the  throbbing  heart  and  dizzy  brain, 
And  shivering  nerves,  shoot  stings  of  more  than  mortal  pain." 

DAY  after  day  passed  away,  and  no  change  occurring  in  the 
aspect  of  his  affairs,  Warwick  gradually  sunk  into  a  con- 
firmed condition  of  despondency.  He  could  only  learn  of  the 
camp,  that  things  there  remained  quiet,  and  that  the  Lady 
Viola  was  more  frequently  in  the  open  air,  and  seemed  more 
cheerful  and  in  better  health.  For  this  he  was  thankful,  but 
this  alone  could  not  sustain  him  in  his  inactivity.  He  lacked 
that  patient  resolution  which,  when  nothing  can  be  done, 
should  be  summoned  to  our  aid  to  sustain  us  while  we  wait. 
He  seemed  to  himself  shut  out,  and  cast  from  the  world  again, 
as  when  he  was  a  child,  without  hope,  without  an  object  in 
life  ;  and  he  wept  bitterly.  No  longer  did  he  hunt  or  fish,  but 
left  it  to  his  attendant  to  furnish  him  with  food.  Careless 
alike  of  comfort  or  appearance,  he  sufi*ered  his  beard  to  grow, 
and  scribbled  complaining  verses  oA  birch  bark,  which  he  re- 
peated to  the  winds  ;  or  he  lay  ingloriously  in  his  cabi%  and 
gazed  for  hours  on  the  only  remaining  mementoes  of  the  past 
which  he  prized — the  ring  and  lock  of  hair. 

But  nature,  like  the  strained  bow,  until  the  last  frail  chord 


INACTION  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  323 

of  the  human  instrument,  be  broken,  will  improve  every  occa- 
sion to  rebound  ;  and  w  xiile  the  strings  are  strong,  she  will 
at  times,  perforce,  cast  off  her  burdens.  Thus  it  was  with 
Warwick.  When  thought  and  feeling  had  been  tense  so  long, 
as  completely  to  exhaust  him  in  the  one  direction,  without  an 
effort  on  his  part,  without  his  consciousness,  the  whole  horizon 
of  his  griefs  would  vanish,  and  other  forms  and  objects  take 
their  place.  Then  he  reviewed  his  life,  and  sat  in  judgment, 
by  what  light  he  had,  on  his  own  acts.  He  sought  all  fields 
of  thought,  the  earth,  the  sky,  the  life  of  man,  his  birth  and 
destiny.  Alternately  he  groped  among  the  splendid  mytho- 
logical fables  of  the  ancients,  which,  like  the  action  of  the  sun 
on  frost-work,  too  often  warm  the  mind  only  to  darken  it  with 
mists ;  or  the  chivalry  and  enchantments  of  the  middle  ages ; 
or  the  simple  but  sublime  revelations  of  Christianity. 

Few  bright,  aspiring  intellects  escape  the  atmosphere  of 
the  schools  without  a  tinge  of  infidelity.  It  is  the  beautiful 
province  of  the  Deity,  to  develop  light  from  darkness,  truth 
from  adversity :  and  now  in  his  hopelessness  and  distress,  it 
was  the  fortune  of  Warwick  to  become  the  recipient  of  the 
chief  good  of  his  being.  In  his  undisturbed  reflections,  his 
last  remaining  doubts  were  swept  away,  and  he  believed. 
But  we  use  the  word  in  no  sectarian  sense.  He  became  sat- 
isfied of  an  active,  superintending  Providence,  as  affirmed  by 
his  own  consciousness,  and  taught  both  by  nature  and  revela- 
tion. He  realized  fully,  for  the  first  time,  that  the  Great 
World-Maker  is  about,  that  He  is  above  all,  the  Father  of  all, 
and  holds  the  destiny  of  all  in  his  hands — that  though  one 
may  seem  to  be  forgotten  and  uncared  for  for  a  time,  drive 
and  driving  helplessly  among  rocks  and  shoals  and  quicksands,, 
it  is  so  only  in  seeming  and  for  wise  ends.  The  Omnipotent 
eye  can  not  lose  sight  of  His  children  ;  the  Omnipotent  heart 
can  not  cease  to  throb  warmly  in  their  behalf:  and  though  we 
^see  not  the  finger  that  so  watchfully  corrects  the  wild  diver- 


324  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

gencies  we  make,  saving  us  frequent  shipwrecks,  the  finger 
is  no  less  there,  and  the  unseen  pilot  ever  at  hand  to  set  our 
barque,  if  it  be  not  already  wholly  water-logged  or  rotten, 
afloat  again  upoa  the  river  of  life. 

The  return  of  Alwyn  from  the  Spanish  camp  foimed  the 
only  breaks  in  the  monotony  of  Warwick's  existence  ;  and 
the  day  and  hour  when  the  young  savage  finally  arrived  with 
an  actual  epistle  from  Michael  Johnson  for  his  master  was 
considered  an  era,  and  worthy  to  be  marked  with  a  white 
stone.  The  missive  was  a  curiosity  in  several  respects. 
The  material  on  which  it  was  written  was  a  film  of  birch 
bark,  as  smooth  as  parchment ;  and  the  characters  were 
inscribed  with  a  sort  of  iron-stone,  or  red  chalk,  in  place  of 
pen  or  stylus.  Though  somewhat  antiquated  in  form,  they 
were  plain  and  legible  :  and  what  is  equally  noteworthy,  were 
evidently  the  oflfspring  of  a  frank  and  honest  mind. 

"  I  take  my  pen  in  hand,"  wrote  Johnson,  "  or  rather  I 
should  say  my  substitute  for  a  pen  (a  thing  I  havn't  done 
afore  in  many  years,  though  in  my  younger  days  I  was  some- 
thing given  to  writing),  to  inform  you  we  are  well :  hoping, 
my  dear  boy,  that  these  few  lines  will  find  you  enjoying  the 
same  blessing.  Things  are  every  day  growing  stranger  and 
stranger  here,  and  I'm  really  at  a  loss  to  guess  out  the  end. 
After  you  went  away,  we  were  considerable  quiet  for  a  time ; 
but  now  Ferdinand  has  got  well,  and  grumbles  and  carries  on 
worse  tl\an  ever.  The  work  is  almost  at  a  stand-still,  and 
the  object  we  came  here  for  forgotten :  or,  at  any  rate,  the 
digging  don't  go  on  to  any  purpose.  The  men  are  uneasy 
and  quarrelsome,  as  well  as  their  masters :  and  I  sometimes 
think  things  are  shaping  for  a  regular  outbreak  and  rebellion. 

"  That^  dear  child,  the  Lady  Viola,  is  like  a  wilted  lily. 
She  cries  and  laughs  by  turns,  but  there  is  no  comfort  in  her 
heart.  If  she  could  see  you,  my  boy,  I  think  'twould  do  her 
more  good  than  any  thing  else :  but  that  can't  be  at  present. 


HTAOTION  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  325 

A  few  days  ago  she  was  improving ;  but  since  Ferdinand  has 
got  about,  and  is  so  stormy,  she  is  worse  again.  I  do  what  I 
can  to  cheer  her  up,  and  tell  her,  if  worse  comes  to  worse, 
there  is  a  Power  that  will  not  forsake  her. 

"  I'm  almost  certain  that  I  do  wrong  in  telling  you  these 
things.  It  will  only  make  you  feel  bad,  and  do  no  good. 
But  if  you  keep  stout  at  heart,  it  won't  hurt  you.  I  don't 
really  think  Ferdinand  will  dare  to  come  to  blows  ;  though 
it's  certain  he  scatters  money  pretty  freely  among  the  men. 
He's  a  coward  by  nater,  and  stands  in  awe'  of  Don  Manuel. 
I  shall  keep  a  close  watch  of  him,  and  guard  our  flower  well : 
and  so  good-bye,  my  dear  boy,  and  God  bless  you !" 

But  the  novelty  of  this  arrival  was  soon  over ;  and  our 
hero,  with  regret  be  it  spoken,  though  on  the  whole  in  a  bet- 
ter frame  of  mind,  still  indulged  himself  in  dreamy  fits  of 
despondent  inactivity ;  for  which,  as  we  can  by  no  means 
escape  the  consequences  of  our  acts,  he  was  fated  to  suffer. 
One  sultry  afternoon,  in  the  absence  of  his  faithful  shadow, 
Alwyn,  as  he  lay  musing  under  a  tree  near  his  hut,  his  wits 
all  wool-gathering,  he  suddenly  found  himself  in  the  hands 
of  half  a  dozen  savages :  and  before  he  could  wake  up 
to  offer  any  effectual  resistance,  his  arms  were  pinioned,  and 
he  perceived  himself  a  prisoner. 

Blank  surprise,  and  chagrin  that  he  had  thus  tamely  deliv- 
ered himself  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  for  the  moment 
deprived  him  of  the  power  of  utterance.  He  looked  at  his 
captors.  They  were  stout,  supple  fellows ;  and  he  imbibed 
no  consolation  from  the  fact  that  they  were  plainly  chuckling 
with  satisfaction  over  their  bloodless  victory.  He  recog- 
nized no  countenance  among  them,  but  it  was  soon  quite  clear 
that  he  was  known  to  them,  and  an  object  of  their  especial 
regard.  They  hurried  him  rapidly  away.  No  sooner  were 
they  out  of  sight  of  his  cabin,  than  they  re-adjusted  the  fasten- 
ings on  his  arms,  searched  his  person  for  concealed  weapons, 


326  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE   RED  MEN. 

and  arranged  themselves,  one  on  each  side,  and  two  in  front 
and  rear,  as  the  order  of  their  further  march.  Perceiving 
that  escape  and  resistance  were  equally  hopeless,  and  judg- 
ing from  the  aspect  of  the  case  that  all  parley  would  be 
worse  than  useless,  with  a  swelling  heart  he  suffered  them 
to  urge  him  on  in  silence. 

The  party  reached  the  Susquehanna  at  a  quick  pace,  and 
bearing  up  the  right  bank  for  several  miles,  ultimately  emerged 
upon  a  cleared  and  cultivated  plain,  indicating  the  near  prox- 
imity of  an  Indian  settlement.  Very  shortly,  on  rising  a 
slight  eminence,  Warwick  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a 
mx)tley  assemblage  of  women  and  children,  who,  vying  with 
each  other  in  the  confusion  of  tongues  which  they  produced, 
seemed  very  desirous  to  exhibit  toward  him  some  touching 
evidences  of  their  regard.  He  was  saved  from  the  marks  of 
their  digits,  however,  by  the  care  of  his  captors,  who,  by  a 
show  of  resolution,  seconded  by  occasional  blows,  succeeded 
in  keeping  the  rabble  at  bay.  The  village  was  directly  in 
advance  :  and  with  little  delay  the  prisoner  was  conducted 
between  rows  of  Indian  huts  to  a  log  tenement  which  an- 
swered the  purposes  of  a  prison,  where,  bound  hand  and 
foot,  he  was  left  to  his  own  reflections. 

Warwick  was  now  himself  again.  The  equilibrium  of  his 
mind  was  restored :  and  this  had  been  accomplished  by  the 
occurrence  of  a  real  calamity.  The  event  taught  him  a  val- 
uable lesson,  should  he  be  so  happy  as  to  escape  from  cap- 
tivity with  his  life,  that  he  might  profit  by  it.  It  taught  him 
the  difference  between  threatening  and  positive  inflictions. 
His  late  griefs,  in  the  main,  had  been  prospective.  His 
present  one  was  real,  and  like  enough  to  be  fatal.  The  first 
had  broken  him  ddwn  ;  the  last  had  strengthened  and  restored 
him.  Strange  creatures  are  we.  With  the  mass  of  mankind, 
imaginary  evils,  or  those  in  the  distance  which  may  never 
reach  them,  are  endured  with  less  patience  and  firmness  than 


INACTION  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  327 

the  blows  and  the  burdens  when  they  come.  Better,  far 
better  is  it,  to  trust  the  sorrows  which  frown  on  the  horizon 
of  the  future  to  the  mercy  and  care  of  Heaven,  and  content 
ourselves  with  the  troubles,  always  enough,  of  the  present. 

The  arrival  of  the  prisoner  in  the  settlement,  as  soon  as  it 
became  fully  known,  seemed  to  answer  as  a  signal  to  its  in- 
habitants for  the  opening  afresh  of  the  flood-gates  of  their 
grief.  The  wails  of  women  and  children,  for  husbands  and 
fathers  and  brothers,  slain  on  the  Delaware,  mingled  with 
cries  for  vengeance,  filled  the  air :  and  Warwick  had  no  diflSi- 
culty  in  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  destined  to 
furnish  the  first  ofl*ering  to  appease  the  ghosts  of  the  departed. 
They  gathered  round  his  prison,  and  clamored  for  his  life : 
they  beat  the  wooden  walls  with  stones  and  sticks ;  and  spit 
on  them  to  show  their  hatred  and  disgust ;  while  they  called 
him  the  false  friend,  who  had  drank  at  their  fountain  and  eaten 
of  their  bread,  and  then  imbrued  his  hands  in  their  blood.  As 
the  youth  listened,  though  he  shrunk  with  horror  from  their 
accusations,  he  was  not  paralyzed  by  the  impending  danger. 
Disposing  himself  to  meet  with  calmness  any  fate  to  which 
Providence  might  assign  him,  he  nerved  every  faculty  of  his 
mind  to  take  advantage  of  any  passing  occurrence,  or  com- 
bination of  circumstances,  which  might  oflTer  him  a  chance  of 
liberation. 

The  Indian,  Alwyn,  at  the  time  of  the  capture  of  his  friend 
and  master,  was  away  scouring  the  forest  for  supplies.  On 
his  return  to  the  lodge,  his  sharp  eye  at  once  detected  marks 
of  unfamiliar  footsteps  ;  and  when  he  found  that  Warwick  was 
no  longer  there,  his  bosom  was  filled  with  alarm.  Running 
from  one  point  to  another,  he  soon  completed  his  examination 
of  the  vicinage,  and  arranged  his  conclusions.  His  master 
was  a  prisoner.  There  was  the  spot  where  he  had  been  sur- 
prised. The  impression  on  the  leaves  where  he  had  lain,  the 
indentures  in  tire  mold,  made  by  his  elbows  and  his  knees. 


328  CAMP  FIBES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

in  the  short  but  ineffectual  struggle,  were  all  plain  enough  to 
the  savage  :  and  from  the  different  footprints  he  was  even 
able  to  discover  the  number  of  the  enemies  that  beset  him. 
He  rejoiced  that  there  were  no  traces  of  blood ;  and  without 
wasting  time  in  vain  lamentations,  he  set  himself  like  a  hound 
on  the  trail. 

His  zeal  and  activity  enabled  him  to  overtake  the  party, 
long  before  their  arrival  at  the  village  ;  but  as  no  opportunity 
offered  to  attempt  the  rescue  of  his  master,  he  did  not  show 
himself.  Alwyn  was  well  aware  that  he  had  become  an  object 
of  distrust  to  his  people  since  he  had  deserted  them  ;  still  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  march  boldly  into  the  Oquago  village. 
Though  its  inhabitants  were  not  of  his  particular  tribe,  he 
knew  them  well ;  and  doubted  not  that  the  veneration  in  which 
they  held  the  memory  of  his  father,  would  secure  him  a 
safe,  if  not  a  friendly  reception. 

It  was  now  twilight.  The  uproar  had  dwindled  to  a  sort 
of  calm — the  loud  lamentations  and  cries  of  rage  had  given 
place  to  a  succession  of  subdued  and  mournful  wails.  The 
natives  of  both  sexes  were  principally  out  of  doors ;  and  the 
women  were  lighting  fires,  preparatory  to  a  night  of  jubilee. 
As  they  recognized  Alwyn  among  them,  some  gazed  sadly  at 
him  without  speaking,  others  accosted  him  civilly,  and  a  few 
scowled  contemptuously ;  but  none  impeded  his  progress.  He 
made  his  way  without  interruption  to  the  lodge  of  the  principal 
chief. 

The  Oquago  received  him  kindly,  invited  him  to  enter,  and 
set  food  before  him.  But  when  he  found  that  the  renegade 
son  of  Rollingbow  was  interested  in  the  fate  of  his  white  cap- 
tive, that  his  object  was  to  intercede  for  his  life,  he  refused  to 
listen  to  him.  He  would  not  withdraw  the  hospitality  he  had 
tendered ;  and  informed  Alwyn  that  for  the  sake  of  his  father 
he  should  be  a  welcome  guest  at  his  cabin  ;  but  he  must  remain 
silent  on  the  subject  of  Captain  Warwick. 


INACTION  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  329 

The  night,  to  a  late  hour,  was  given  by  the  Indians  to 
rejoicing.  Alwyn  perceived  that  he  was  an  object  of  sus- 
picion, and  that  his  actions  were  closely  watched.  Neverthe- 
less, both  on  that  evening  and  the  following  day,  he  frequently 
approached  the  prison  where  his  master  was  confined  ;  but  he 
was  warned  away  by  the  guard,  and  failed  to  communicate 
with  him.  Neither  was  he  more  successful  in  his  attempts  to 
learn  from  the  natives  what  were  the  intentions  of  the  savages 
with  respect  to  the  final  disposition  to  be  made  of  their  cap- 
tive. Direct  questions  and  stratagems  were  resorted  to  in 
vain.  Every  one  was  on  his  guard  against  him:  and  he  could 
only  draw  his  conclusions  from  what  came  under  his  imme- 
diate observation.  These  were  all  unfavorable  :  and  his  ap- 
prehensions were  still  increased  by  the  arrival  at  the  Oquago 
village  of  several  neighboring  and  important  chiefs  of  the 
Confederacy. 


FOLITICAL   POSITION  OF  THE   SIX  NATIONS.      THE   TRIAL.      OLD  CHARAOTEKS 
IN    A    NEW    DRESS. 


*'  Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  tbls- 
That  in  the  course  of  justice  none  of  us 
Should  see  salvation." 


MEANTIME  the  hours  passed  heavily  with  Warwick.  He 
was  soon  aware  of  the  presence  of  one  friend,  Ihe  faithful 
Alwyn,  whose  voice  he  detected  as  the  youth  spoke  to  the 
sentinels.  He  also  repeatedly  caught  sight  of  him  through 
the  chinks  in  his  prison  walls,  on  the  second  day  :  and  though 
he  could  not  speak  with  him,  the  consciousness  that  there  was 
one  heart  nigh,  though  incased  in  the  brown  skin  of  an  untutor- 
ed Indian  boy,  that  sympathized  with  him,  was  an  unspeakable 
satisfaction.  It  was  like  a  pleasant  dew  falling  on  a  thirsty 
plain.  As  yet  nothing  had  occurred  to  indicate  the  exact 
doom  which  awaited  him.  The  sentinels,  and  those  who 
came  to  him  with  food,  were  silent,  moving  figures.  If  he 
spoke  to  them,  they  paid  no  attention  to  it.  No  one  came  to 
visit  him ;  and  to  his  urgent  and  repeated  requests  for  an  inter- 
view with  the  head  chief,  no  answer  was  returned.  Still  he* 
felt  composed,  and  ate  and  slept  well. 

Thus  closed  the  second  day ;  and  notwithstanding  the  delay, 
somewhat  unusual  in  the  administration  of  the  Indian  code, 
the  savages  were  by  no  means  playing  with  their  prisoner. 
The  worst  passions  were  aroused  and  busy  among  them,  and 
the  deferring  of  the  sacrifice  for  a  brief  period  was  only 
designed  to  prolong  their  gratification,  and  at  the  same  time 


TEE  TRIAL.  331 


give  an  appearance  of  deliberation  to  their  proceedings.  It 
was  well  known  to  them  that  their  captive  was  a  British 
officer,  and  some  little  apprehension  of  the  consequences  of 
their  acts  would,  in  spite  of  them,  obtrude  itself  on  their 
counsels.  He  was  also  one  whose  name  was  familiar  in  the 
Confederacy.  He  had  indeed  achieved  a  certain  degree  of 
popularity  with  them,  by  the  frankness  of  his  character,  as 
exhibited  during  the  pendency  of  some  important  negotiations  : 
and  most  of  them  knew  him  very  well  by  report,  and  some  of 
them  had  met  with  him  in  person.  All  these  considerations 
seemed  to  advise  them  to  an  unusual  circumspection  in  their 
proceedings. 

But  with  the  American  Indian  revenge  of  injuries  is  the 
master  passion.  Forgiveness  of  wrongs  finds  no  place  in  his 
breast:  and  of  mercy  to  an  enemy  he  never  dreams.  Exter- 
mination of  all  foes  i§  a  part  of  his  religion.  It  was  the  prime 
article  in  the  creed  of  his  fathers.  He  drew  it  in  with  his 
mother's  milk.  It  formed  the  first  chapter  in  the  lessons  of 
his  childhood :  and  in  manhood,  without  a  doubt  to  embarrass 
him,  he  unshrinkingly  practices  upon  it.  Unsated  vengeance 
preys  on  his  mind  like  the  fabled  vampyre  on  the  heart  of  its 
victim.  He  can  not  eat,  he  can  not  sleep,  he  can  not  rest, 
until  the  appetite  of  the  demon  within  him  is  slaked.  And 
still  the  Indian  is  a  faithful  friend. 

But  though  the  Indian  character  were  different — though  the 
soft  breath  of  mercy  had  fallen  on  the  sons  of  the  wilderness 
like  melting  rain,  what  good  reason  had  Warwick  to  hope  for 
an  acquittal  at  their  hands,  viewed  as  he  was  by  them  in  the 
light  of  a  false  friend  and  insidious  traitor  ?  He  had  partaken 
of.  their  hospitality  ;  he  had  influenced  them  to  spare  their 
enemy,  until  that  enemy  had  made  himself  strong  with  de- 
fenses ;  and  then  had  joined  that  enemy  and  imbrued  his  own 
hands  in  their  blood.  Many  widows  were  mourning  for  their 
lords :   and  if  the  Indians  burned  with  hostility  toward  the 


332  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

Spaniards,  they  were  consumed  with  a  double  fire  in  their 
hatred  of  him  who  had  betrayed  them,  and  been  the  efficient 
cause,  as  they  beliered,  of  their  late  most  disastrous  and 
bloody  defeat. 

To  fan  these  feelings  into  an  intensity  still  more  vivid  were 
the  emissaries  of  the  rival  power  of  Great  Britain  on  the 
American  Continent,  already  present,  as  they  were  every- 
where ;  and  who,  sometimes  Frenchmen  in  the  disguise  of 
savages,  and  sometimes  Indians  paid  for  the  service,  were 
ever  busy  and  on  the  alert  to  sow  disaffection,  and  foment 
ill-blood  between  the  natives  and  the  Colonies  of  England. 
Accordingly,  to  the  partisans  and  emissaries  of  France,  the 
present  occasion  was  an  important  one.  The  deliberate  put- 
ting to  death  of  a  British  ojfficer  by  the  Six  Nations  might  be 
converted  into  a  firebrand,  which  would  hardly  fail  to  kindle 
a  conflagration.  On  it  might  hinge  the  most  vital  results — a 
break  with  the  whole  North  American  tribes,  and  the  down- 
fall of  the  threatened  British  supremacy  in  the  New  World. 

The  most  active  and  influential  agent  of  the  French  inter- 
est, who  presented  himself  at  the  Oquago  village,  at  this  time, 
was  an  old  man,  an  Indian  or  a  half-breed,  in  a  mixed  dress 
of  aboriginal  and  European  trappings,  who  was  called  Sir 
John.  He  rested  not  a  moment ;  he  mingled  in  their  coun- 
cils ;  he  conversed  separately  with  their  chiefs  and  warriors, 
and  brought  to  bear  every  cunning  appliance  known  to  the 
most  expert  politician,  to  stimulate  their  fury,  to  swell  their 
pride,  and  remove  any  incipient  doubt  or  apprehension  which 
might  find  a  momentary  lodgment  in  their  minds. 

Contrary  to  the  advice  of  Sir  John,  the  chiefs  determined 
to  concede  to  the  prisoner  a  form  of  trial ;  and  the  third  day 
of  his  captivity  was  set  apart  for  the  proceedings.  These 
were  to  be  in  public,  that  the  justice  of  his  condemnation 
might  be  manifest  to  all ;  and  that  nothing  might  be  wanting 
in  the  fairness  of  the  procedure,  should  they  be  called  on  to 


TBE  TRIAL.  333 


account  for  their  acts  by  their  British  allies,  he  was  to  be 
present,  and  to  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  a  defense. 

The  third  day  came.  At  about  10  o'clock  Warwick  was 
led  forth.  The  manacles  were  removed  from  his  legs,  to  per- 
mit him  some  freedom  of  motion ;  but  he  was  surrounded  by 
a  strong  guard,  and  two  stalwart  savages  held  him  by  the 
arms.  In  this  manner  he  was  conducted  to^n  open  space  in 
the  center  of  the  village,  where,  beneath  the  spreading  branches 
of  a  magnificent  butternut  tree,  was  a  leveled  and  slightly  ele- 
vated plain  or  clayed  floor,  ordinarily  devoted  to  purposes  of 
council.  To  the  trunk  of  this  tree  he  was  firmly  bound ;  but 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  allow  him  to  move,  and  to  give  him  no 
unnecessary  annoyance  :  and  around  him,  in  a  circle,  the  sav- 
ages proceeded  to  seat  themselves  on  the  ground. 

The  Oquago,  a  grave  and  venerable  chief,  presided  at  the 
solemn  inquest  which  ensued.  He  occupied  the  central  point 
in  the  inner  range,  nearest  the  prisoner  ;  and  on  either  side 
of  him  were  seated  those  dignitaries,  according  to  rank,  whom 
age,  prowess,  or  the  reputation  of  wisdom  entitled  to  act  the 
part  of  accusers  and  judges.^  Behind  these  were  the  warriors 
or  braves ;  and  beyond  still  were  the  young  men,  the  women, 
and  the  children ^  a  mixed  multitude,  but  all,  as  would  appear, 
occupying  places  according  to  a  certain  order  of  precedence. 
'They  were  decked  in  their  gaudiest  trappings ;  the  braves 
were  fully  armed,  and  besmeared  with  paint,  until  they  had 
transformed  themselves  into  every  possible  image  of  terror. 

When  all  were  seated,  a  grave  silence  of  a  few  minutes 
ensued,  during  which  Warwick  surveyed,  with  some  anxiety 
and  minuteness,  the  assemblage  before  him.  Alwyn  was  no- 
where to  be  seen.  There  were  faces  there,  however,  which 
he  recognized  ;  but  from  no  countenance  could  he  gather  hope. 
All  was  stolid  indifference,  or  worse.  The  old  men  sat  at 
their  ease,  immovable,  and  to  appearance  as  unimpassioned  as 
statues  ;  while  the  eyes  of  the  younger  portion,  as  they  met 


334  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MElfT. 

his,  gleamed  on  him  with  the  ferocity  of  tigers.  No  sym- 
pathy was  there.  He  might  as  soon  think  to  melt  the  rocks 
with  a  tear,  as  to  move  those  creatures  with  sentiments  of 
compassion.  Still  Warwick  yielded  not  to  despair.  He 
quailed  not  before  his  foes.  He  nerved  himself  bravely  to  his 
fate,  and  sent  his  thoughts  upward,  and  felt  that  if  all  the 
world  had  deserted  him,  there  was  still  One  who  was  his 
Father  and  his  Friend. 

At  length  the  Oquago  arose,  and  in  a  brief  and  temperate 
speech  gave  a  statement  of  the  facts  in  the  case.  Of  him  and 
what  he  said,  the  American  felt  he  had  little  right  to  com- 
plain. He  spoke  of  Great  Britain  as  the  ancient  ally  of  the 
Six  Nations  ;  of  their  father  across  the  great  water,  the  King 
of  England,  in  terms  of  affectionate  regard  ;  of  the  unity  and 
good  faith  which  had  generally  subsisted  between  them,  and 
which  had  now  "been  unfortunately  outraged  by  a  British  sub- 
ject. He  spoke  of  the  prisoner  as  one  who  had  enjoyed  the 
confidence  and  esteem  of  the  Confederacy,  but  who  had  abused 
both,  and  turned  the  confidence  they  reposed  in  him  to  their 
destruction.  In  the  narration  which  he  gave  to  support  this 
charge,  the  speaker  was  careful  not  to  go  beyond  the  facts, 
as  he  understood  them.  He  formally  absolved  England  and 
the  Colonies  from  all  participation  in  the  acts  of  the  prisoner, 
spoke  of  the  strong  desire  of  the  Indians  to  be  at  peace,  and 
continue  to  maintain  harmonious  relations  with  their  white 
neighbors  ;  and  concluded  by  saying  that  it  was  obviously  best 
for  all  that  he  who  had  undertaken  to  disturb  those  relations 
should  perish,  that  no  cause  of  dissatisfaction  might  remain. 

The  old  chief  was  followed  by  a  professed  orator,  who  gave 
at  length  and  in  detail  a  most  vivid  history  of  every  circura 
stance  which  could  be  brought  to  bear  against  the  prisoner. 
He  commenced  with  the  appearance  of  the  Spaniards  in  the 
Indian  country,  people  of  a  dark  white- race,  neither  English 
nor  French,  who  had  come  in  an  armed  body  among  them,  no 


TBE  TRIAL.  335 


one  knew  for  what ;  who  had  killed  their  deer,  trampled  down 
their  corn,  and  insulted  their  women  and  braves.  He  nar- 
rated particularly  the  first  ov«rt  act  of  hostility  on  the  part  of 
these  men,  which  resulted  ii  the  capture  of  Don  Ferdinand. 
He  spoke  of  the  interference  of  the  prisoner  in  the  Spaniard's 
behalf;  described  in  burning  words  the  subsequent  unpro- 
voked murder  of  Helmo,  and  the  just  and  deep  indignation  of 
the  Indians  which  followed.  He  pictured  in  glowing  colors 
their  preparations  for  revenge  ;  the  treachery  of  Warwick, 
his  flight  to  the  Spanish  camp,  and  its  consequences.  He 
delineated  with  consummate  skill  the  attack,  planned  and 
led  on  by  Rolhngbow,  the  Onondaga,  and  pointed  out  the 
cause  of  its  failure,  as  he  shook  his  long  finger  at  the  prisoner. 
He  described,  like  a  master  of  his  art,  the  several  successive 
assaults  ;  and  closed  with  a  representation,  too  vivid  for  aught 
but  reality,  of  the  horrors  of  that  dreadful  night,  which  wit- 
nessed the  death  of  Rollingbow,  and  the  slaughter  of  fifty  of 
their  bravest  warriors. 

While  this  eloquent  declaimer  was  on  his  feet,  the  whole 
audience,  moved  by  his  descriptions  and  appeals,  and  fasci- 
nated by  the  melody  and  grace  of  his  voice  and  gestures,  hung 
entranced  and  breathless  on  his  lips.  As  he  closed,  they 
seemed  to  gasp  for  breath  ;  and  turning  slowly  from  the 
speaker  to  the  prisoner,  they  began  to  sway  to  and  fro  like  a 
heavy  wave,  and  in  an  instant  a  hundred  voices  broke  upon 
the  air : 

"  Let  him  die  !     L^t  him  be  burned  !"  they  shouted. 

But  this  disorderly  proceeding  was  at  once  checked  by  the 
Oquago  ;  and  another  orator  arose.  He  spoke  fluently  and 
well.  All  his  attitudes  and  motions  were  easy  and  natural ; 
but  his  matter  was  only  a  new  combination  of  what  had  al- 
ready been  said. 

The  fourth  speaker,  as  a  branch  of  his  argument,  enforced 
the  necessity  of  Ihe  immediate  expulsion  of  the  whole  Spanish 


336  CAMP  FirtES  OF  TffE  BSD  MEK 

party  from  the  Indian  territory,  or  their  entire  extermination. 
The  prisoner  he  considered  the  enemy's  right  arm,  which,  all 
else  aside,  they  were  bound  to  lop  off  in  self-defense. 

The  part  of  the  prosecution  seemed  here  to  have  come  to 
a  close  ;  and  the  Oquago  again  arose,  and  notified  the  prisoner, 
that,  if  he  had  any  thing  to  say,  he  would  now  be  heard.  Not 
that  he  considered  a  lenity  of  this  nature  at  all  necessary  to 
the  administration  of  justice  ;  but  he  had  understood  that  such 
was  the  custom  of  the  whites;  and  in  the  trial  of  a  white, 
especially  one  of  the  prisoner's  rank,  he  was  willing  that 
every  right  which  his  own  laws  secured  should  be  extended 
to  him,  that  all  the  world  might  see  that  he  was  justly  con- 
demned, and  equally  by  English  as  by  Indian  justice. 

Futile,  as  it  was  evident,  any  attempt  at  a  justification  of 
himself  must  be,  the  love  of  life — and  oh,  how  strong  it  is, 
and  should  be,  with  the  young ! — impelled  Warwick  at  once 
to  accept  the  proffered  favor.  At  this  terrible  and  hopeless 
hour  he  felt  it  an  imperative  necessity  and  duty  not  to  give 
way,  but  to  struggle  on,  and  defend  to  the  utmost  that  boon  of 
existence  which  God  had  given  him.  But  with  what  words 
should  he  address  his  judges.?  How  could  he  explain  the 
complicated  circumstances  and  motives  which  had  influenced 
his  acts,  in  such  a  way  as  to  render  them  intelligible  to  sav- 
ages 1  And  yet  he  felt  that  he  had  done  nothing  worthy  of 
death ;  that  he  was  an  innocent  man. 

Warwick  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  Indian  tongue 
to  understand  most  of  what  had  been  said,  and  to  render  him- 
self intelligible  in  reply.  He  requested  that  the  cords  which 
bound  his  arms  might  be  loosed,  that  he  might  speak  with 
more  freedom,  and  it  was  granted.  He  then  proceeded  to 
ask  their  attention  to  what  he  was  about  to  say  in  his  defense 
— not  in  denial  of  the  specific  acts  which  had  been  charged 
upon  him ;  those  he  acknowledged  he  had  committed :  nor 
yet  to  solicit  their  compassion^  for  he  was  not  afraid  to  die. 


TEE  TRIAL.  337 


What  he  had  to  say  would  be  in  explanation  of  those  acts : 
when  he  should  leave  it  to  the  great  Confederacy  of  the  Six 
Nations,  the  chiefs  and  warriors  there  present,  to  do  him  jus- 
tice. 

He  denied  that  he  had  been  a  traitor  to  them.'*  He  was 
their  friend:  he  had  been  their  friend  from  the  beginning: 
but  it  was  to  his  own  household  that  a  man  and  a  warrior 
owed  his  first  duty.  The  Spaniards  were  of  his  own  blood : 
among  them  were  those,  as  it  were,  of  his  own  family  ;  whom 
he  loved  and  felt  bound  to  protect,  as  a  man  should  love  and 
protect  his  father,  or  his  mother;  or  the  wife  of  his  bosom. 

"  In  entering  the  Indian  country,"  continued  the  prisoner, 
"these  strangers  intended  you  no  harm.  They  wished  to  be 
at  peace  with  you ;  and  to  make  sure  of  a  good  understand- 
ing, I  came  among  you  in  advance.  But  as  you  all  do  know, 
in  every  wood  there  is  a  crooked  tree — in  every  tribe  there 
is  one  violent  man.  My  Spanish  friends  are  no  exception  to 
this  general  law.  Among  them  is  the  chevalier  Don  Ferdi- 
nand de  Cassino.  You  know  him :  he  was  once  your  pris- 
oner, as  I  am  now.  I  induced  you  to  set  him  free.  Per- 
haps I  was  wrong  in  that.  My  excuse  is,  that  I  then  did  not 
understand  him  as  I  do  now.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  mur- 
dered the  guide  that  was  sent  to  conduct  him  back  to  his 
friends.  He  has  since  attempted  my  life.  He  is  my  most 
deadly  foe.  He  is  the  foe  of  Don  Manuel  Torrillo,  the  Span- 
ish chief.  He  is  the  enemy  of  us  all :  and  he  it  is  who 
is  responsible  for  all  the  bloodshed  and  trouble  which  has 
ensued. 

"  When  poor  Helmo  was  murdered,  I  asked  the  noble  Rol- 
ingbow  to  let  vengeance  sleep,  if  but  for  a  day,  that  I  might 
go  to  the  Spanish  chief  and  have  justice  done  without  fur- 
ther bloodshed  or  war.  But  the  hot  blood  of  the  warrior  was 
up.  He  refused  to  hear  me.  He  armed  his  braves,  and 
invited  you  all  to  join  him  in  seeking  revenge.     At  such  a 

15 


338  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEX. 

X , 

time  what  ought  I  to  have  done  ?  I  loved  my  Indian  friends  : 
I  loved  my  ovi^n  brothers.  For  the  guilt  of  Ferdinand  of 
Cassino  should  I  leave  my  innocent  ones  to  perish  ?  Under 
such  circumstances  what  would  you  have  done  ?  Would 
you  have  forsaken  your  own  blood  ?  No — no  !  You,  noble 
men  and  chiefs  who  are  my  judges,  understand  the  duty  of  a 
warrior  better.  I  did  as  you  would  do.  I  flew  to  the  aid  of 
those  so  dear  to  me.  I  fought  for  them,  I  defended  them, 
even  against  my  friends.  If  for  this  I  am  deserving  of  death, 
in  the  name  of  the  Great  Spirit,  who  is  equally  the  God  of 
the  white  men  and  the  red  men,  execute  it  upon  me !" 

As  Warwick  ceased  speaking,  he  could  not  but  watch  the 
effect  of  his  words  with  an  interest  most  intense.  The  bold- 
ness of  his  defense  had  evidently  taken  his  auditors  by  sur- 
prise. He  had  made  an  impression  ;  but,  alas  !  too  faint  a 
one  to  avail  him.  The  slight  murmur  of  approbation  died 
away  ;  the  look  of  admiration  faded  :  and  all  again  was  cold 
and  still.  At  this  crisis  the  young  Indian,  Alwyn,  pale,  hag- 
gard, and  breathless,  burst  through  the  crowd  into  the  open 
space  in  the  center,  and  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the 
Oquago.  His  object  was  at  once  comprehended  ;  and  several 
of  the  braves,  as  they  arose  to  seize  him,  taunted  him  to  his 
face. 

"  His  father  was  a  great  chief,"  said  they,  "  but  he  has  the 
soul  of  a  woman.     He  is  fit  only  to  serve  the  white  man." 

The  young  savage  indignantly  regained  his  feet.  His  eyes 
flashed  fire  and  his  breast  heaved  with  emotion. 

"  Hear  me  !"  he  shouted  in  a  clear  and  commanding  voice, 
which  startled  and  awed  his  listeners.  "  Ye  call  me  a  woman. 
Was  Rollingbow  a  greater  warrior  than  you  ?  His  blood  runs 
here !"  extending  at  the  same  time  his  slight  but  muscular 
arm.  "Did  you  love  my  father?  Then  why  forget  what 
this  Yengee  did  to  save  him  when  he  perished?  Ah!  but 
the    Yengee    fought   against  us !     Well,   he    fought   for   his 


THE  TRIAL.  339 


brothers :  he  fought  to  save  his  white  bird — the  joy  of  his 
bosom,  the  hope  of  his  life.  Can  ye  not  remember  ?  Have 
ye  forgotten  that  he  gave  us  back  many  prisoners  unhurt; 
and  our  dead  to  bury  ?" 

"  Boy !"  sternly  interrupted  Sir  John,  suddenly  springing 
to  his  feet :  "  Your  sires  have  listened  patiently.  Will  you 
give  way  to  men  ?  There  has  been  talking  enough.  It  is 
now  time  to  act.  Women  and  children  cry  when  warriors' 
hearts  are  strong.  The  blood  of  our  brothers  is  not  yet 
avenged.  Their  spirits  are  angry  at  the  delay.  They  must 
be  appeased.  The  prisoner  must  die.  Here  are  his  weapons 
still  red  with  the  blood  of  our  brothers  and  sons.  Let  them 
be  washed  in  the  pale  water  of  his  heart.  Then  will  the 
ghosts  of  our  kindred  he  at  rest." 

The  speaker  held  extended  in  his  hand  the  sword  and  rifle 
which  belonged  to  Warwick.  Several  braves  sprung  forward 
to  receive  them  :  but  before  they  could  execute  the  hellish 
purpose  he  had  indicated,  there  was  a  sudden  tumult :  and  a 
tall,  gaunt  figure,  with  the  strides  of  a  Hercules,  overturning 
some,  and  thrusting  others  from  his  path,  suddenly  appeared 
in  their  midst,  and  sprung  like  an  enraged  tiger  upon  Sir 
John.  The  unexpected  apparition  was  none  other  than 
Michael  Johnson.  Seizing  his  victim  by  the  throat,  he  gazed 
a  moment  into  his  face,  as  though  to  make  sure  of  his  iden- 
tity, and  threw  him  on  the  ground  with  a  force  which  de- 
prived him  of  sensation. 

All  was  at  once  confusion  and  alarm.  The  women  shriek- 
ed ;  the  men  sprung  to  their  feet ;  and  a  hundred  knives  were 
flashing  at  the  instant  in  a  hundred  hands.  Those  near  John- 
son attempted  to  seize  or  disable  him,  but  he,  with  astonish- 
ing agility  and  strength,  threw  them  from  him,  and  avoided 
their  blows ;  until,  having  cleared  a  small  space,  he  caused 
his  ever  ready  rifle  to  play  around  him  in  a  circle,  and  with 
such  a  velocity  as  to  force  them  back  and  keep  them  at  bay. 


340  CAMP  FIRB8  OF  TSB  BED  MEIT. 

"  Stand  off,  my  men !"  he  thundered.  "  I  come  as  a  friend 
and  a  brother.  Have  any  of  you  ever  heard  of  the  White 
Eagle  of  the  Mohawks  %     Look  on  him  again  !" 

Thus  saying  he  threw  open  his  vest,  and  exposed  to  their 
view  the  figure  of  an  eagle,  and  the  symbol  of  his  tribe,  im- 
perishably  punctured  in  his  skin.  The  sign  was  acknowl- 
edged :  the  uplifted  weapons  fell :  and  Wisset,  the  young 
chief  of  the  Mohawks,  and  a  son  of  the  brave  old  Hendrick, 
Johnson's  ancient  friend,  immediately  came  forward  and  gave 
him  his  hand.  Others  pressed  in  to  follow  his  example  :  but 
the  attention  of  the  White  Eagle  had  already  reverted  to 
another  object.  He  wa»  gazing  at  the  still  insensible  Indian 
at  his  feet. 

"  Is  that  John  the  Wild  Cat  ?"  said  he. 

"  That  is  the  Wild  Cat,"  replied  the  Mohawk. 

Johnson  knelt  down  beside  him. 

**  I  have  been  too  fast,"  said  he.     "  John  must  not  die  yet.** 

He  placed  his  hand  on  the  Wild  Cat's  heart.  He  shrieked 
in  his  ear :  he  called  for  water,  and  bathed  his  face  and  neck. 
At  length  the  Indian  gasped  :  but  reviving  animation  seemed 
slow  and  uncertain.  Age,  if  it  had  not  cooled. his  passions, 
had  chilled  the  current  of  his  veins  ;  and  some  time  elapsed, 
made  up  of  moments  of  terrible  suspense  to  Johnson,  before 
he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  speak. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?"  shouted  Johnson. 

"  I  do,"  faintly  articulated  the  Indian. 

"  Then  tell  me  what  became  of  my  child.     Does  he  live  T 

The  Wild  Cat  made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  reply.  Johnson 
bent  over  his  dreadful  enemy,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from 
their  sockets,  his  face  pale  as  that  of  his  expiring  foe  ;  but 
every  nerve  and  every  muscle  strained  to  their  utmost  tension 
by  the  grasping  despairing  agony  of  his  mind.  He  placed 
his  ear  to  the  Wild  Cat's  lips. 

"  He  lives,"  breathed  the  savage  in  a  whisper. 


THE  TRIAL.  341 


"  He  lives  !"  shrieked  Johnson,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  My 
Paul  lives !     Tell  me  where,  and  I  forgive  you  all !" 

The  dying  Indian  made  a  convulsive  motion,  and  his  last, 
in  the  direction  of  the  prisoner.  But,  by  this  time,  memory 
was  busy  with  Warwick,  remolding  the  shadowy  images  of 
his  infancy. 

"  My  father !"  he  exclaimed.  Johnson  sprung  forward,  and 
the  old  man  of  many  troubles,  who  had  never  fainted  betore, 
fell  insensible  on  the  bosom  of  his  manacled  son. 


THE  PITHER  AND  SON.     CLOUDS  BREAKING  AND  THE  PRIZE  IN  TIEW. 


'  All  is  best,  though  we  oft  doubt 
What  the  unsearchable  dispose 
Of  highest  Wisdom  brings  about." 


THE  Indians  were  by  no  means  indifferent  spectators  of  the 
incidents  last  recorded.  Their  sympathies  were  aroused  ; 
a  brief  consultation  was  held  by  the  principal  chiefs ;  when 
Wisset,  the  Mohawk,  addressed  the  softened  multitude. 

He  alluded  to  the  solemn  and  extraordinary  events  which 
had  just  transpired  before  their  eyes  ;  and  proceeded  to  ex- 
plain to  them  some  things  necessary  to  a  proper  understand- 
ing of  them.  He  recalled  to  their  minds  the  services  of  the 
White  Eagle,  rendered  to  the  Nations  many  years  before  ; 
which  were  of  such  a  character  as  to  elevate  him  by  general 
consent,  though  a  pale  face,  to  the  dignity  of  a  chief.  He 
recurred  to  the  loss  of  his  child  also,  many  years  before, 
while  yet  a  mere  infant,  through  the  mad  revenge  of  John 
the  Wild  Cat ;  and  to  the»great  efforts  that  were  made,  but  in 
vain,  for  the  lad's  recovery.  He  recalled  to  their  recollection 
the  fact,  that  the  Wild  Cat  had  fled,  at  the  time,  an  outlaw 
from  the  Confederacy  :  and  that  he  had  never  returned  among 
them,  until  of  late  ;  when  he  was  only  tolerated  in  his  char- 
acter of  an  envoy  of  the  French ;  and  that  the  claim  he  had 
set  up  of  still  being  a  subject  of  the  Nations  was  impudent 
and  false. 

Finally  the  speaker,  with   the    voice   and   bearing   of    a 


TEE  FATHER  AND  SON.  343 

_ ^ , 

prophet,  declared  that  the  hand  of  the  Great  Spirit  was  evi- 
dently working  among  them.  The  appearance  of  the  White 
Eagle  on  the  scene,  after  many  years  of  absence  ;  and  his  dis- 
covery of  his  son  just  at  the  moment  when  the  youth  was 
about  to  suffer  death  for  crimes  which  it  now  seemed  probable 
others  had  committed ;  and  the  mysterious  end  of  the  Wild 
Cat,  now  lying  dead  before  them,  as  though  struck  by  a  bolt 
from  heaven,  were  a  sufficient  indication  of  the  wishes  of 
their  Great  Father.  His  children  would  submit.  "  Let  the 
prisoner's  bands  be  cut,"  said  he,  "  and  let  us  all  rejoice  with 
the  old  chief  who  has  found  his  son." 

This  happy  termination  to  the  exciting  incidents  of  the  day 
was  received  with  general  applause.  Some  few  grumbled, 
but  their  murmurs  were  drowned  in  the  enthusiastic  shout  of 
satisfaction  which  broke  upon  the  air,  as  a  seal  to  the  verdict 
of  their  chiefs ;  and  which  restored  the  unconscious  Johnson 
to  himself.  With  trembling  hands  he  assisted  to  unbind  his 
son ;  and  Warwick  again  stood  forth,  under  the  beautiful  sky, 
and  stretched  his  tortured  limbs  in  freedom.  He  had  found 
his  father — not,  it  is  true,  in  the  most  elevated  sphere  of  life, 
according  to  the  world's  esteem;  but  he  was  satisfied.  He 
could  not  wish  it  otherwise.  He  already  loved  the  old  man 
deeply ;  and  he  felt  prouder  of  his  sire  as  he  was,  plain 
Michael  Johnson,  one  on  whom  God,  and  not  men,  had  set  the 
stamp  of  greatness,  than  though  he  had  found  him  clothed  in 
gold  and  purple.  And  Lucy  too,  that  Lucy — the  pure  and 
innocent  being  over  whose  sorrows  and  early  fate  he  had 
wept — yes,  that  Lucy,  still  the  old  man's  dream  of  hope,  was 
his  mother. 

With  many  turbulent  demonstrations  of  pleasure,  the  father 
and  son  were  conducted  by  the  savages  to  a  separate  lodge, 
where,  food  having  been  set  before  them,  with  an  unusual 
delicacy  of  appreciation,  they  were  left  to  themselves.  But 
both  were  too  full  for  speech  ;  and  clasping  each  other's  hands 


344  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

they  communed  long  in  silence.  At  length,  sinking  on  his 
knees,  his  son  beside  him^  the  veteran  gave  modest  thanks  to 
the  Supreme  Ruler  of  events  for  the  gieat  good  with  which 
his  age  was  blessed. 

The  presence  of  Johnson  at  the  Oquago  village,  so  oppor- 
tune for  the  safety  of  Warwick,  as  the  reader  has  doubtless 
surmised,  was  owing  to  the  active  sagacity  of  the  young  In* 
dian  Alwyn.  Failing  to  make  any  impression  on  his  people, 
and  perceiving  by  the  note  of  preparation  that  they  jvere 
determined  on  a  sacrifice,  he  hastened  to  the  Spanish  camp. 
His  whistle  from  a  brake  near  the  fort  brought  Johnson  imme- 
diately to  his  side.  But  what  could  be  done  ?  How  was 
Warwick  to  be  saved?  The  whole  Spanish  forces,  were 
they  at  the  veteran's  command,  would  hardly  suffice  to  rescue 
him.  And  in  what  condition  were  these  forces  ?  Just  on  the 
eve,  as  the  old  man  plainly  foresaw,  of  an  outbreak  among 
themselves  ;  and  a  large  majority  of  them  already  secured  by 
Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,  Warwick's  implacable  foe,  to  do 
his  bidding.  But  the  youth  must  not  be  left  to  perish  without 
an  effort  for  his  salvation  ;  and  trusting  to  the  omnipotent 
God,  rather  than  his  own  strength,  Johnson  accompanied  Al- 
wyn to  the  Oquago  settlement.  The  result  we  have  already 
seen. 

Meanwhile,  with  the  father  and  son,  time  flew  by  on 
uncounted  hours.  As  soon  as  they  had  gratified  each  other 
with  the  more  important  incidents  of  their  own  personal  his- 
tories, their  thoughts  naturally  reverted  to  their  friends  in  the 
Spanish  camp. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  answers  to  give  you,"  ^aid  Johnson, 
in  reply  to  several  hurried  questions  on  the  part  of  Warwick. 
"  Things  are  bad  enough,  sartainly  ;  and  I  fear  our  help  will 
be  needed  quite  as  soon  as  we  can  find  it  convenient  to  get 
there." 

"  What,  to  repel  violence  V  said  Warwick. 


THE  FATHER  AND  SON.  345 

"  Quite  likely,"  returned  the  old  hunter.  "  Don  Ferdinand 
is  getting  more  outrageous  every  day  ;  and  Don  Manuel  has 
altered  his  hand  too.  He  has  made  up  his  mind,  at  last,  that 
the  Lady  Viola,  sweet  thing !  shan't  be  sacrificed  body  and 
Boul ;  and  the  chevalier  knows  it  pretty  well,  too." 

"  And  what  is  likely  to  be  the  result  of  a  struggle  between 
them  ?"  inquired  Warwick,  anxiously. 

*'  God  only  knows,"  returned  Johnson.  "  It  was  but  yes 
terday  that  Don  Manuel  inquired  of  me  about  you — havin'  a 
vague  suspicion,  he  said,  that  you  were  not  far  away.  It  is 
sartain  in  my  mind,  if  he  had  help  enough  to  back  him,  that 
he  would'nt  dally  an  hour  longer  with  Ferdinand.  He  would 
settle  accounts  with  him  in  a  hurry,  I  guess." 

"  Did  you  infer,"  said  Warwick,  in  some  trepidation,  "  that 
he  would  be  glad  of  my  presence  in  the  camp  in  this  ap- 
proaching crisis  ?" 

"  He  said  so  in  so  many  words,  my  boy,"  returned  the 
veteran. 

"  I  will  soon  be  there  then,"  said  Warwick.  "  Let  us  lose 
no  time  in  giving  him  the  benefit  of  our  counsel  and  our 
strength." 

"  Not  too  fast,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  man.  "  We  are  but 
four  hands  when  we  get  there  ;  or  six,  at  the  outside,  count- 
ing the  child  Alwyn.  But  here  am  I,  by  God's  blessing, 
among  friends  ;  and  I've  thought  of  proposin'  to  them  to  give 
us  a  trifle  of  help.  A  hundred  or  two  of  copper-skins  at  our 
back  would  quite  cheer  us  up  in  payin'  our  respects  to  Don 
Ferdinand." 

This  suggestion,  of  course,  met  with  the  hearty  approval 
of  Warwick.  Johnson,  however,  informed  him  that  he  would 
be  obliged  to  school  his  patience  a  little,  as  he  perceived  by 
the  noise  that  the  Indians  were  getting  up  a  powwow  for 
the  night,  and  it  would  be  useless  to  broach  the  subject  to 
them  until  that  should  be  brought  to  a  close.     Warwick  then 

15* 


346  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEK 

proceeded  to  inquire  more  particularly  after  the  welfare  of  the 
Lady  Viola. 

"  Poor  thing !"  said  Johnson,  in  reply,  "  she  is  bad  enough ; 
and  still  she  keeps  up  as  well  as  could  possibly  be  expected 
under  the  circumstances.  Her  father  is  gettin'  almost  dis- 
tracted about  her :  and  it  was  that,  I  guess,  that  drove  him  to 
consult  me  so  freely  yesterday.  First  he  spoke  of  Don  Fer- 
dinand's rascally  conduct  in  tampering  with  his  servants  and 
followers.  He  said  that  he  himself  was  now  poor  ;  and  that 
thpugh  he  had  received  many  tokens  of  attachment  from  his 
dependents,  they  were  still  human  ;  and  not,  he  feared,  above 
the  corrupting  influence  of  deceitful  promises  and  gold. 

"  Don  Manuel  Torrillo,"  continued  the  veteran,  "  is  now  a 
very  different  man  from  what  he  was  when  I  first  knew  him. 
His  troubles,  and  this  about  Viola  more  than  any  thing  else, 
have  broken  him  down.  I  saw,  yesterday  in  particular,  that 
his  spirits  were  all  gone  ;  and  that  he  was  almost  ready  to 
give  up  in  despair.  His  eyes  looked  wild-like  ;  he  would 
make  sudden  starts ;  and  his  lips  quivered  when  he  stopped 
talkin'.  '  Look  at  my  child  !'  he  said.  '  She  is  almost  dead — 
daily  pining  away  before  my  eyes — and  all  from  her  horror 
of  Ferdinand.  Wretch  that  I  am!  to  have  made  such  en- 
gagements for  her  before  she  was  out  of  her  cradle.  This 
affiancing  of  infants  I  find  to  be  an  unnatural  proceedin'.  And 
still  it  might  all  have  turned  out  well  enough,  but  for  the 
sensitiveness  of  Viola's  nater,  and  the  brutality  of  Ferdinand's. 
But  oh,  my  God !  to  think  that  the  man  should  turn  out'  a 
murderer !  the  one  I  had  loved  and  intended  for  my  son. 
Whether  Ambrose  was  insane  or  not,  is  no  longer  of  import- 
ance to  the  great  question.  I  have  decided  that.  He  shall 
never  wed  my  sweet  child.  I  will  sacrifice  every  thing  to 
save  her  from  him — life,  or  even  what  the  world  calls  honor. 
But  should  I  perish,  oh,  God!  what  will  become  of  her?' 

"  I  did  what  I  could,"  continued  Johnson,  "  to  comfort  Don 


THE  FATHER  AND   SON.  347 

Manuel,  and  assured  him  that  so  long  as  I  remained  alive,  the 
Lady  Viola  should  not  lack  an  arm  to  defend  her  :  and  that  I 
thought  there  was  another  still,  worth  a  dozen  of  me,  who 
would  rejoice  to  place  himself  by  her  side,  and  take  his 
chances  against  Don  Ferdinand,  or  any  body  else  that  might 
offer.  He  thanked  me,  and  taking  me  by  the  hand,  very 
solemnly,  as  though  it  was  his  last  act,  committed  his  daughter 
to  my  care.  '  A  black  cloud  is  over  me,'  said  he,  '  which  I 
find  it  impossible  to  dispel.  I  fear  me  this  inhospitable  wild, 
even  this  mountain,  is  destined  to  furnish  me  with  my  last 
place  of  rest — that  here  the  career  of  Don  Manuel  Torrillo  is 
to  end.  For  myself  I  care  not.  I  am  too  much  of  a  phil- 
osopher, and,  I  hope,  Christian,  to  mourn  over  a  few  short 
days  at  the  latter  end  of  life.  But  Viola  is  young.  The 
world  is  all  before  her  yet,  untasted.  It  is  hard  for  her  to 
die.  But  better  thus,  even,  than  a  heart-broken  wife,  con- 
sumin'  by  inches.    .Kind  Father  in  Heaven,  protect  her  !' 

"  I  pitied  Don  Manuel  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,"  con- 
tinued the  old  man,  "  and  tried  my  best  to  drive  away  the 
gloomy  apprehensions  which  had  got  possession  of  his  mind. 
I  told  him  to  trust  in  Heaven,  and  to  hope.  I  told  him  the 
decision  he  had  come  to  with  respect  to  the  Lady  Viola  and 
Don  Ferdinand  was,  without  doubt,  correct :  for,  accordin'  to 
my  notion  of  things,  Charles,  the  agreement  is  one  which  he 
hasn't  the  natral  right  to  fulfill.  If  it's  sinful  to  break  a  con- 
tract, it's  more  sinful  still  to  violate  the  born  rights  of  a  child, 
and  compel  her  ag'in  nater  and  reason  to  marry  a  man  she 
hates.  This  I  told  him ;  and  advised  him  still  to  temporize 
with  the  chevalier  a  little  longer,  if  possible,  hopin'  that  some 
thing  might  turn  up,  meanwhile,  in  our  favor.  It  was  then  he 
gave  me  liberty  to  consult  with  you,  my  dear  boy ;  and  bade 
me  say  to  you,  that  your  help  would  be  very  acceptable  in  his 
present  strait ;  and  that,  with  Heaven's  blessing,  Viola  should 
be  your  reward." 


AN   ADOPTION.     INDIAN    FESTIVITIES,  AN    ABORIGINAL    SFPPEB    AND   BALL. 
COXCOMBS    AND    COQUETTES.     THE   WAE    PAETY. 

"  Lo,  the  poor  Indian  I" 

THE  sun  was  already  low  in  the  west,  when  Johnson  and 
Warwick  emerged  from  the  lodge.  On  gaining  the  air, 
almost  the  first  object  that  met  their  eyes  was  Alwyn,  sitting 
apart  on  a  log,  and  taking  no  note  of  what  was  passing  around 
him.  As  they  approached,  he  looked  up  sadly,  and  Warwick 
perceived  traces  of  tears  on  his  face. 

"  I  had  not  forgotten  you,  Alwyn,"  said  Warwick,  kindly ; 
"  and  I  must  now  thank  you  for  all  you  have  done  in  saving 
my  life  this  day.     But  what  is  the  matter,  boy  ?" 

"  I  know  not,"  returned  the  youth. 

"  Why  then  do  you  weep,  when  I  am  full  of  joy  ?  My  life 
is  given  back  to  me,  Alwyn ;  and  you  have  been  an  important 
instrument  in  saving  it.  Had  I  been  burned,  you  would  have 
wept  then  ;  would  you  not  ?" 

"  I  would  have  been  burned  too,"  said  the  youth. 

"  My  brother  !"  said  Warwick,  taking  his  hand  ;  "  you  are 
worthy  of  all  my  love.  How  strong  has  been  your  affection 
for  me,  manifested  in  a  hundred  different  ways  !  But,  Alwyn, 
I  have  found  my  father,  whom  I  have  not  seen  since  I  was  a 
little  slip,  not  much  higher  than  your  knee.  Do  you  not  re- 
joice with  me  ?" 

"  The  Great  Spirit,  who  sees  here,"  said  Alwyn,  laying  his 
hand  on  his  breast,  "  alone  knows  how  sincerely.     Rolling- 


THE  WAB  PARTY.  349 


bow,  too,  was  a  chief;  but  where  is  he?  Gone  !"  continued 
the  youth,  pointing  to  the  sky ;  "  but  the  White  Eagle  has 
come  back." 

Warwick  was  deeply  moved. 

"  The  White  Eagle  shall  be  your  father  also,"  said  he ; 
"  and  I  will  be  your  elder  brother.  We  will  never  forsake 
you,  Alwyn.  You  shall  remain  with  us  always,  if  you  wish ; 
and  all  I  have  I  will  share  with  you." 

"  It  shall  be  so,"  said  Johnson,  elevating  himself  with  a 
feeling  of  paternal  pride.     "  Rise  up,  my  brave  boy !" 

Alwyn  arose,  and  the  old  man  placed  his  hand  on  the  youtl^Js 
head. 

"  Henceforth,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "  thou  art  my  son — the 
same  in  all  respects  as  though  begotten  of  my  body.  And  God 
ratify  and  bless  the  adoption  ;  and  thee,  too,  Alwyn  !" 

A  flush  of  sunshine  came  over  the  fa?e  of  the  young 
Indian.  He  took  the  White  Eagle's  hand  reverently  in  his 
and  kissed  it.  Then  embracing  Warwick  with  a  more  fa- 
miliar joy,  the  three  took  their  way  toward  the  center  of  the 
village. 

"  I  must  show  my  two  boys  to  my  friends,"  said  Johnson, 
as  he  walked  with  the  pride  and  dignity  of  a  father  between 
them.  "  But,  Warwick,  the  ancient  butternut,  it  seems  to  me, 
wears  now  a  much  pleasanter  Jook  than  it  did  a  few  hours 
ago." 

Indeed,  around  the  same  tree  which  had  so  lately  witnessed 
the  jeopardy  of  Warwick  and  the  death  of  Wild  Cat,  prep- 
arations had  already  been  made  for  a  grand  feast  in  honor 
of  the  White  Eagle.  The  chiefs  and  the  warriors,  with  the 
entire  population  of  the  place,  were  there  assembled,  and  re- 
ceived the  old  man  with  every  token  of  honor  and  respect. 
Like  attentions  were  extended  to  him  who  had  so  nearly  been 
their  victim,  against  whom  they  no  longer  seemed  to  enter- 
tain a  shadow  of  ill-will ;  and  also  to  the  young  Indian,  Al- 


350  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  BED  MER. 

wyn,  as  soon  as  they  became  aware  that  the  White  Eagle  had 
adopted  him. 

The  festivities  which  succeeded  were  of  a  wild  and  strik- 
ing character.  The  viands,  though  boasting  no  variety  to 
compare  with  the  saloons  of  the  Irving  or  Astor,  were  abund- 
ant, and  prepared  with  a  commendable  attention  to  neatness. 
Venison,  fish,  the  abundant  produce  of  the  Susquehanna,  not 
omitting  the  delicious  shad,  then  plenty  in  its  upper  waters ; 
bear's  meat,  and  the  national  dish,  the  succotash,  with  maize 
or  corn  cakes,  baked  on  the  coals,  formed  the  principal  staples 
of  the  feast.  To  these  may  be  added,  from  the  catalogue  of 
minor  dishes,  roasted  corn,  beans,  squashes,  apples,  black- 
berries, and  other  wild  fruits  of  the  season.  These  were 
served  in  vessels  of  native  manufacture,  made  of  burned  clay, 
or  curiously  fashioned  from  the  knotty  excrescences  of  trees. 
The  guests,  as  a  mark  of  honor,  and  also  to  show  that  the  Six 
Nations  were  not  ignorant  of  European  customs,  were  fur- 
nished with  English  knives ;  and  wooden  spoons,  carved  out 
of  a  species  of  the  box,  and  pronged  sticks,  to  answer  in  place 
of  that  indispensable  appendage  to  civilization,  called  a  fork. 
The  savages,  however,  dispensed  with  this  latter  luxury, 
greatly  preferring  those  ancient  instruments,  the  fingers,  for 
the  transfer  of  their  food.  This  they  bolted  with  great  dex- 
terity, and  devoured  ravenously,  sundering  the  tough  portions, 
meanwhile,  with  that  knife  of  all  work  which  the  Indian  has 
ever  at  hand,  suspended  in  a  leather  case  by  his  side. 

The  dishes  were  arranged  in  a  circle  on  the  ground,  and 
around  them,  facing  to  a  common  center,  sat  the  company  on 
bear-skins  and  rush-mats.  There  was  perhaps  in  this  primitive 
display,  the  table,  the  furniture,  or  the  fare,  or  even  in  the 
picturesque  assembly  of  the  sons  of  the  forest,  with  their 
women  and  children,  crouched  on  the  ground,  little  to  attract 
the  admiration  of  an  epicure  ;  and  still  the  viands  were  not 
unsavory ;.  while  the  hospitality  with  which  they  were  prof- 


THE  WAR  PARTY.  351 


fered,  and  the  high  good  feeling  which  reigned  around  the 
board,  were  an  ample  compensation  to  a  hungry  man  for  the 
absence  of  porcelain  or  silver,  and  Parisian  cookery. 

As  day  was  rushing  beneath  the  western  hills,  and  in  pity 
to  the  world  she  was  leaving,  threw  some  of  her  rays  behind, 
flooding  the  sky  with  rose,  with  orange,  and  with  purple  light, 
the  savage  feast  was  brought  to  a  close,  and  the  ground  was 
cleared  for  the  dancers.  At  the  tap  of  a 'drum,  twenty  bon- 
fires, and  a  multitude  of  torches  elevated  on  poles,  and  at- 
tached to  the  branches  of  the  wide-spreading  butternut,  burst 
into  a  blaze,  and  lighted  up  this  natural  ball-room  as  brilliantly 
as  the  thousand  burners  illuminate  the  artificial  magnificence 
of  Metropolitan  Hall.  The  warriors,  the  wives,  the  young 
men  and  maidens,  now  appeared  on  the  scene  in  all  their 
glory.  The  strong  light  showed  their  fine  persons,  their 
graceful  movements,  and  their  wild,  aboriginal  bedeckments 
to  the  best  advantage  :  and  a  scene  of  rough  revelry,  of  bois- 
terous enjoyment  ensued,  which  defies  description. 

The  dress  of  the  Indian  females  was  various.  Already 
were  the  fashions  of  the  whites,  especially  as  to  material, 
making  serious  inroads  upon  them.  Some  there  were,  how- 
ever, who  pertinaciously  resisted  innovation,  and  still  adhered 
substantially  to  the  costume  of  their  fathers.  These  wore  a 
sort  of  deer-skin  petticoat,  the  choicest  made  of  the  skin  of 
the  doe,  white,  and  worked  to  the  softness  of  velvet,  which 
extended  from  the  throat  to  the  knees.  It  was  without 
sleeves,  set  close  af  the  waist,  and  was  confined  on  the  bosom 
with  brooches ;  while  the  bust  and  skirt  were  heavily  em- 
broidered with  stained  porcupine  quills  and  bead-work.  The 
legs  were  encased  in  a  similar  leather,  made  to  fit  close,  with 
wide,  projecting  hems  or  edgings,  up  and  down  the  outside, 
and  was  also  richly  ornamented.  On  the  feet  were  the  beau- 
tifully wrought  moccasins,  which  are  too  well  known  to  need 
description.     On  the  border  of  the   skirt,  the  hems  of  the 


352  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN". 

leggings,  and  the  flaps  of  the  moccasins,  were  hanging  small 
tin  and  silver  pendents,  which,  as  the  wearer  moved  about  in 
the  dance,  gave  out  a  sound  like  that  of  little  bells.  The 
arms  were  circled  with  bracelets  of  silver  or  brass.  The 
long,  jetty  hair  was  confined  with  hoops  of  silver  or  ribbons 
of  wampum ;  and  from  both  ears  and  nose  hung  jewels  of 
sea  shells  or  silver.  A  round  spot  of  some  brilliant  color, 
the  size  of  a  large  rose-leaf,  occupied  the  center  of  the 
forehead:  and  thus  the  costume  of  the  Indian  damsel  was 
complete. 

Some  indeed  there  were,  light-hearted  maidens,  fond  of 
show  and  foreign  gauds,  who  preferred  the  calicoes  and  blue 
and  crimson  broadcloths  of  the  English  to  the  leather  robes 
of  their  country.  With  these  the  particolored  cotton  petticoat 
and  red  or  blue  leggings  took  the  place  of  the  native  article. 
Rut  such  derelictions  were  by  no  means  countenanced  by  the 
staid  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  tribes  ;  and  those  who  in- 
dulged in  them  were  frequently  subjected  to  the  rebukes  of 
their  elders,  and  were  regarded  as  frivolous,  unpromising 
maidens,  who  had  departed  from  the  simplicity  of  their 
people. 

The  costume  of  the  males  was  of  a  less  showy  and  more 
imposing  kind,  as  befitted  them.  They  were  naked  to  the 
waist,  round  which  was  girded  with  a  belt  a  blanket  of  skins 
or  cloth,  calculated,  when  comfort  required,  to  be  drawn  over 
the  shoulders.  The  white  woolen  robe,  known  to  commerce 
by  the  name  of  the  Indian  blanket,  was  already  common 
among  them  :  its  cheapness,  and  superiority,  in  many  respects,- 
over  the  skins  of  the  deer,  bear,  and  moose  having  rendered 
its  introduction  rapid.  From  the  waist  hung  a  garment  which 
extended  in  a  front  and  rear  flap  nearly  to  the  knees.  Leg- 
gings and  moccasins,  similar  to  those  already  mentioned,  but 
plainer  in  workmanship  and  more  substantial  in  material, 
completed  the  attire  proper  of  the  Indian.     Not  so,  however, 


TEOE  WAR  PARTY.  353 


with  the  ornamental  part  of  his  toilet.  Ordinarily  he  wore 
his  hair,  which  was  as  black  as  the  wing  of  a  raven,  and 
never  curled,  long,  and  braided  and  coiled  on  the  top  or  back 
of  the  head.  It  was  there  confined  with  a  string  or  circlet 
of  metal.  From  his  ears  and  nose  hung  pendents  :  but  the 
impressive  characteristic  in  the  appearance  of  the  American 
Indian,  and  that  on  which  he  most  prided  himself,  was  the 
manner  in  which  he  was  colored.  Without  a  due  attention 
to  his  person  in  this  particular,  he  would  not  go  on  a  war- 
party  or  attend  a  fete  ;  and  accordingly  this  sort  of  embel- 
lishment became  with  him  a  part  of  the  serious  business  of 
his  life. 

The  colors  originally  found  with  the  natives  were  .the 
products  of  plants  and  some  few  earths.  After  their  acquaint- 
ance with  the  whites,  some  of  our  ordinary  paints,  such  as 
ochre,  vermilion,  and  red  lead,  were  substituted.  The  hues 
must  needs  be  brilliant,  and  then  the  Indian  was  satisfied. 
He  laid  them  on  thickly,  in  spots  and  stripes,  over  his  face 
and  the  upper  part  of  his  body,  apparently  without  much 
order,  but  certainly  not  without  effect.  When  he  had  thus 
completed  his  toilet,  to  a  civilized  eye  he  was,  perhaps,  the 
most  frightful  object  in  nature.  But  among  the  savages  them- 
selves, and  especially  the  softer  sex,  this  kind  of  decoration 
was  considered  vastly  becoming :  and  during  the  festivities 
we  are  describing,  the  dark  damsels  criticised  with  great  free- 
dom and  relish,  the  taste  and  skill  exhibited  by  the  different 
braves  in  this  sort  of  embellishment. 

But  among  the  males,  as  with  the  females,  there  were 
those  who  differed  materially  in  their  appearance  from  the 
rest.  These  were  the  coxcombs  ;  and  where  is  the  nation 
or  people  or  tribe  among  whom  they  are  not  to  be  found? 
The  Indian  coxcomb,  as  in  civilized  countries,-gratified  his 
passion  for  notoriety  and  display  by  carrying  existing  fash- 
ions to  an  extreme,  by  the  introduction  of  new  ones,  and  by 


HM  camp  F1RE3  OF  THE  RED  21EM. 

taking  on  himself  airs  of  effeminate  delicacy  or  offensive 
superiority.  He  wore  larger  pendents  and  brooches  than  his 
fellows.  He  applied  the  paint  in  broader  stripes,  and  carried 
them  a  couple  of  inches  lower  on  his  body,  than  strict  propri- 
ety, according  to  the  notions  of  his  people,  would  warrant. 
He  shaved  his  head,  all  but  a  small  tuft  on  the  crown,  which 
he  bound  up,  and  taught  to  sustain  itself  erect,  and  used  as  a 
support  to  a  multitude  of  gaudy  feathers,  plucked  from  all  the 
birds  of  the  forest.  He  cut  his  ears  into  strings,  in  the  same 
manner  that  a  round  bit  of  leather  may  be  cut  into  a  continu- 
ous thong :  and  when  thus  prepared,  the  organ  was  made  to 
assume  the  form  of  a  hoop,  wound  with  brass  or  silver  wire, 
and  hung  with  tinsel  and  jewels,  until  it  depended  in  an  ob- 
long circle  on  the  shoulder. 

The  dances  were  of  a  very  anomalous  character.  They 
were  performed  to  the  music  of  rude  drums,  beaten  with  a 
single  stick,  and  supported  by  the  voices  of  the  dancers.  Old 
and  young,  male  and  feniale,  partook  with  equal  spirit ;  but 
the  two  sexes  did  not  mingle.  The  ball  was  opened  by  the 
males,  who  occupied  the  capacious  smooth  clayed  floor  for  a 
time,  and  then  gave  place  to  the  females  :  and  thus  they 
alternated  through  the  evening.  Johnson  led  off  in  the  first 
set,  accompanied  by  the  venerable  Oquago,  and  the  principal 
chiefs :  and  at  a  later  period,  Warwick  himself  found  it 
prudent  to  unite  in  the  exercise,  and  to  hop,  leap,  and  sing  as 
vigorously  as  the  rest. 

The  evolutions  consisted  of  a  variety  of  rapid  lively  move- 
ments, sometimes  assuming  the  shape  of  a  regular  figure  ; 
but  more  generally  that  of  a  mere  helter-skelter  commingling, 
and  an  expert  management  of  the  person,  as  they  skipped  and 
jumped  and  threaded  their  seemingly  inextricable  way  among 
each  other,  over  the  dancing-ground.  Occasionally,  how- 
ever, the  complement  on  the  floor  would  divide  into  two  par- 
ties ;  and,  taking  their  stations  at  opposite  sides,  as  the  drums 


THE  WAR  PARTY.  355 


struck  up,  would  move  forward  diagonally  to  the  right,  a  cer- 
tain number  of  steps,  and  then  to  the  left,  in  the  same  man- 
ner ;  until  the  two  divisions,  coming  together,  would  mingle 
and  pass  entirely  through  each  other  :  when,  turning,  they 
would  retrace  their  steps  in  the  same  zig-zag  fashion  to  their 
first  positions.  Large  numbers  were  engaged  in  this  man- 
ner at  once ;  they  moved  actively  and  quick ;  and  as  they 
met,  it  seemed  quite  impossible  but  that  a  scene  of  tangled 
confusion  should  ensue;  still  no  two  came  in  contact;  and 
they  emerged  from  their  involved  labyrinth  in  perfect  order. 
All  the  dances  were  performed  with  the  utmost  exactness  to 
time. 

Notwithstanding  some  unquiet  thoughts  preying  on  his 
mind,  Warwick  could  not  but  become  interested  in  this  wild 
revel.  The  magnificent  ball-room ;  its  floor  the  earth,  and  its 
ceiling  the  firmament  set  with  stars  ;  between,  a  hanging  of 
green  leaves,  with  torches  and  blazing  bonfires  for  lamps ;  the 
tall,  lithe  Indians,  in  their  showy  trappings,  treading  the  ground 
,  with  the  ease  and  dignity  of  monarchs ;  the  native  women, 
with  fine  forms  and  features,  and  black  flashing  eyes,  tripping 
vigorously,  but  not  ungracefully,  through  the  mazes  of  the 
dance ;  the  music  of  the  drums  and  the  rich,  mellow  voices  of 
the  singers,  as  they  rose  high  on  the  wind  or  sunk  away  in 
soft  cadences,  formed  indeed  a  picture  likely  to  leave  its  im- 
pression on  the  mental  tablet  forever.  Outside  the  dancers 
sat  the  chiefs  and  elders  of  the  people,  their  brows  unbent, 
their  prerogatives  for  the  time  forgotten,  telling  stories  to  their 
grandchildren,  of  the  war  and  the  hunt,  and  the  loves  of  their 
youth.  The  laugh,  the  joke,  the  song,  were  unrestrained 
and  no  one  witnessing  the  life  and  freedom  and  chatter  of  this 
festival  would  have  said  thereafter  that  the  Indian  is  neces- 
sarily taciturn  and  grave. 

As  the  interest  in  the  {k,i^  began  a  little  to  flag,  Michael 
Johnson,   who  rarely  lost  sight  of  the  proper  moment  for 


356  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

action,  drew  several  of  the  chiefs  together,  and  unfolded  to 
them  his  wishes.  He  informed  them  of  the  present  posture 
of  affairs  at  the  Spanish  camp ;  of  the  defection  of  Don  Fer- 
dmand,  and  its  probable  consequences  to  himself,  and  the  son 
they  had  that  day  given  to  his  arms.  He  showed  them  that 
in  the  success  of  the  plot  of  the  chevalier  they  themselves 
had  something  to  fear,  inasmuch  as  the  lawlessness  of  his 
character  was  a  very  safe  warrant  for  further  outrages  upon 
them  at  his  hands.  On  the  other  side,  he  pledged  himself 
that  if  the  authority  of  Don  Manuel  should  be  sustained,  the 
Spanish  party  should  at  once  peacefully  evacuate  the  Indian 
country.  He  asked  for  a  body  of  Indian  warriors,  sufficient 
to  overawe  the  designs  of  Don  Ferdinand,  or  to  crush  them,  in 
case  of  resistance. 

The  proposition  of  the  White  Eagle  was  variously  re- 
ceived. Some  remained  sedately  silent ;  others  suggested 
that  it  might  be  well  to  leave  their  enemies  to  cut  each  other's 
throats,  if  the  White  Eagle  and  his  son  could  be  prevailed  on 
not  to  involve  themselves  in  the  catastrophe.  But  there  were 
others  still,  and  among  them  were  the  Oquago  and  the  Mo- 
hawk Wisset,  who  perceived,  in  addition  to  their  desiie  to 
oblige  an  old  friend,  a  sound  policy  for  themselves  in  comply- 
ing with  the  request.  They  were  anxious  to  rid  the  Con- 
federacy of  their  troublesomje  visitors,  and  they  saw  no  cheaper 
or  more  expeditious  way  of  accomplishing  it  than  the  one 
proposed. 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  pursue  the  negotiation  further. 
Suffice  it  that  it  was  successful.  The  Oquago,  by  an  alarm 
beat  on  the  drums,  arrested  the  feet  of  the  dancers.  The 
Mohawk  explained  the  object  of  the  interruption,  and  called 
for  volunteers,  whom  he  offered  to  lead  in  person  against 
the  Spanish  camp.  The  proposal  was  received  with  shouts 
of  satisfaction,  and  ratified  by  acclamation,  and  the  festivities 
of  the  night  were  brought  to  a  close  with  the  terrible  war- 


THE  WAR  PARTY.  '  357 


dance.  The  morn  was  just  breaking,  when  Michael  Johnson, 
Warwick,  and  the  Mohawk,-  at  the  head  of  a  stout  body  of 
warriors,  comprising  the  effective  force  present  on  the  oc- 
casion, marched  out  of  the  Oquago  village,  and  turned  south 
down  the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna. 


INDIAN  LOVE  OF  COUNTRY.     THE  MOHAWK.     THB  MARCH.  ; 

"  A  thousand  years  we  thus  have  lived  the  monarchs  of  the  -wild, 
The  sun  and  all  the  orbs  of  night  have  circled  o'er  and  smiled  ; 
And  ever  from  those  silent  lights  the  Spirit-Eye  so  good, 
Keeps  watch  of  his  red  children  through  the  branches  of  the  wood." 

THE  course  of  the  war-party  lay  along  the  rich  and  umbra- 
geous shore  of  the  Susquehanna,  whose  banks  never  want 
for  foliage  and  flowers,  or  scenery  for  variety  and  beauty.  To 
the  Indian,  every  foot  of  the  ground  was  sacred — each  vale, 
and  cliff,  and  hill  was  inseparably  interwoven  in  his  recollec- 
tion with  some  legend,  near  or  remote,  in  which  he  or  his 
fathers  had  been  actors.  There  a  pile  of  stones  marked  the 
spot  where  the  spoils  of  some  memorable  hunt  and  victory 
over  the  beasts  of  the  forest  had  been  gathered  ;  there  a  mound 
covered  the  bones  of  his  foes,  and  commemorated  an  ambus- 
cade into  which  an  invading  enemy,  many  centuries  ago,  had 
been  cunningly  led,  only  to  perish ;  there  another  mound  point- 
ed out  the  resting-place  of  a  famous  chief  and  warrior,  who 
had  died  in  defense  of  his  country  ;  and  there  a  red  pole  on  a 
beetling  bluff  designated  the  place  where  a  young  brave  had 
rescued  his  bride  from  the  fangs  of  a  wolf,  conquered  the  pow- 
erful animal  by  strength  of  muscle  alone,  bound  him,  and 
plunged  him  off  into  the  blue  waters  of  the  river  below.  The 
burying-places  were  frequent — where  the  red  men,  in  a  sitting 
posture,  with  faces  turned  toward  the  east,  and  pipe,  and  bow^ 
and  arrows,  and  a  handful  of  parched  corn,  as  a  first  provision 
when  they  should  reach  the  hunting-grounds  of  the  Spiiit- 


TSE  MAROm  359 


land,  had  for  ages  been  committed  to  their  native  dust.  The 
fields  where  they  raised  their  corn,  and  the  little  pits  by  the 
side  of  the  winding  path  where  they  buried  it  in  winter,  and 
sparse  orchards  of  the  apple,  here  and  there,  also  added  to  the 
variety  and  picturesqueness  of  the  scene,  otherwise  one  of 
primeval  hills,  and  vales,  and  water. 

And  why  should  not  the  Indian  love  his  father-land  ?  Surely 
it  was  beautiful — beautiful  as  the  vale  of  Shiraz,  beautiful  as 
the  Switzer's  mountain  home,  beautiful  as  the  fairy  country 
from  which  the  Moors  of  Spain  were  so  barbarously  expelled. 
The  touching  laments  of  the  Moors,  though  centuries  have 
since  passed,  are  still  held  in  warm  remembrance  by  the  civ- 
ilized world.  When  the  exiled  Pole  steals  home  through 
many  dangers,  to  delight  his  eyes  once  more  with  a  sight  of 
the  Vistula,  and  to  stand  for  a  brief  hour  by  the  graves  of  his 
fathers,  we  give  him  all  our  sympathy.  This  is  right.  The 
Indian,  also,  has  feelings  and  attachments  like  other  men  ;  and 
the  whole  strength  of  his  passionate  nature  centers  in  his  love 
for  his  native  land  and  reverence  for  the  burial-places  of  his 
dead.  From  the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna,  red  with  the 
memory  of  Wyoming,  the  Indians  have  long  since  been  ex- 
pelled, with  all  the  terrors  of  fire,  and  sword,  and  rapine.  For 
many  years^  no  red  man  dared  set  his  foot  on  its  soil.  But 
more  recently,  as  the  memory  of  the  past  has  faded,  an  occa- 
sional Indian,  venerable  with  age,  has  been  seen,  stealing  like 
a  shadow  along  the  ancient  paths  of  that  river,  resting  by  the 
graves  and  mounds  ;  or  like  a  ghost,  at  eve  or  early  morn, 
standing  on  some  eminence,  whence  scenery,  not  easily  to  be 
excelled,  of  fringed  and  winding  shore,  meadow  and  mountain, 
which  had  been  the  Lome  of  his  childhood,  might  once  again 
be  viewed,  to  cheer  his  heart  against  his  final  departure  to  the 
land  of  shades. 

"  Every  foot  of  this  ground  is  as  familiar  to  me  as  the  farm 
on  which  I  was  bom,"  remarked  the  veteran  Johnson  to  hU 


360  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TSE  RED  MEN. 

son,  as  the  party,  ranged  in  single  file,  wound  along  the  bank 
of  the  river.  "  I've  already  pointed  (iut  to  you  the  grove  of 
alders  where,  when  you  was  my  little  Paul,  and  scarcely, 
higher  than  my  knee,  you  were  last  seen  with  Wild  Cat  be- 
fore he  carried  you  off.  Yonder,  around  that  p'int,  is  the  spot 
where  we  had  the  difficulty  about  the  traps,  and  John  under- 
took to  shoot  me." 

Warwick  regarded  the  localities  with  interest.  Already 
the  country  and  its  hills  were  assuming  a  familiar  shape  to  his 
mind,  like  the  frame-work  of  a  dream  which  one  endeavors  to 
recall ;  and  as  he  gazed  and  gazed,  dim  images  of  the  past 
crowded  his  recollection,  and  he  even  had  the  satisfaction  of 
recognizing  certain  points — a  rock,  a  spring,  a  tree — and  of 
connecting  them  in  his  memory  with  some  little  incidents  of 
his  boyhood.  How  sad  and  delightful  were  these  recogni- 
tions !  He  felt  as  though  he  could  fall  upon  the  earth  and 
kiss  those  places  that  had  known  him  when  a  child. 

That  in  the  lithe  and  brawny  Mohawk  chief,  who  marched 
before  him  at  the  head  of  his  band,  like  a  proper  sovereign  of 
the  woods,  he  was  to  acknowledge  the  Indian  youth  who  had 
been  the  playmate  of  his  infancy,  was  to  Warwick  still  more 
difficult.  He  gazed  into  his  brown  and  manly  face  in  vain, 
until  the  Mohawk  unbent  the  sternness  of  his  brow  and  smiled  ; 
when  Warwick  recognized  the  smile,  for  through  it  shone  the 
heart.  It  came  like  a  beam  of  sunlight,  connecting  the  boy 
with  the  man,  and  Warwick  knew  him.  The  same  had  been 
the  case  with  his  recollection  of  his  father.  As  he  heard  him 
talk  and  looked  him  in  the  face,  feature  after  feature,  motion 
and  expression,  gradually  were  recalled,  until  he  came  to 
realize  the  truth  ;  and  the  distant  past,  which  had  so  long  lain 
in  shadow,  was  restored  again  and  blended  with  the  present. 

Aside  from  his  fine  person  and  noble  bearing,  the  Mohawk 
spoke  English  fluently.  Through  the  agency  of  missionaries, 
who  were  already  prosecuting  their  labors,  particularly  in  the 


THE  MARCS.  361 


eastern  portions  of  the  Confederacy,  he  had  received  a  respec- 
table education,  and  was  familiar  with  the  whites,  their  habits, 
and  their  growing  power.  That  he  should  view  their  increas- 
ing strength  and  constant  encroachments  with  uneasiness  and 
alarm  was  but  natural ;  and  during  a  halt  of  the  morning  at  a 
spring,  he  took  Warwick  aside  and  expressed  his  apprehen- 
sions in  warm  and  glowing  terms. 

"  What  is  to  become  of  our  nation,"  said  he,  "  with  the 
French  pressing  us  on  one  side  and  the  English  on  the  other  ? 
We  are  fiot  unmindful  of  our  treaties,  we  are  not  unfaithful  to 
our  great  Father  across  the  water ;  we  desire  peace  that  we 
may  plant  our  corn  in  safety  and  take  care  of  our  women  and 
children  ;  but  the  torrents  that  pour  down  opposite  mountains 
meet  in  the  valley  between,  and  carry  a  double  destruction 
over  the  plains.  So  it  is  with  us,  encroached  on  and  threat- 
ened on  both  sides  as  we  are." 

Warwick  endeavored  to  allay  the  chief's  uneasiness.  He 
assured  him  of  the  paternal  disposition  of  England,  and  the 
kind  intentions  of  the  Colonies,  with  respect  to  the  Six  Nations ; 
and  advised  him,  as  in  duty  bound,  and  as  he  believed  to  be 
right  and  best,  to  repel  the  advances  of  the  French  in  what- 
ever specious  form  they  might  come,  and  rely  for  protection 
and  safety  on  the  justice  and  power  of  Great  Britain. 

"  Protection  !"  echoed  the  proud  savage.  "  The  Nations 
will  protect  themselves,  or  die  in  defense  of  their  country  and 
the  graves  of  their  fathers.  Still  we  may  negotiate  to  peace- 
ably preserve  our  rights.  But  our  rivers  are  becoming  dry — 
the  fish  like  not  the  white  man — and  the  moose  and  the  deer 
flee  before  him  toward  the  great  river  of  the  setting  sun.  Our 
hunting-grounds  are  becoming  deserted,  and  the  brave  must 
turn  himself  into  a  squaw,  and  plant  corn,  to  supply  his  little 
ones  with  bread !" 

The  close  of  this  sentence  was  uttered  with  a  profound  and 
indignant  contempt.     The  eyes  of  the  chief  flashed,  the  veins 

16 


362  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

on  his  forehead  and  temples  swelled  full,  and  he  swung  his 
arms  through  the  air  with  an  energy  which  bore  witness  to 
the  intensity  of  his  feeling  and  the  strength  of  his  determina- 
tion. Warwick  felt  the  force  of  his  position,  and  knew  not 
well  what  reply  to  make.  Suddenly  the  eyes  of  the  savage 
became  fixed,  wide  open  as  they  were,  his  face  turned  toward 
the  clouds,  and  extending  his  hands  he  became  rigid  and  still 
as  a  statue.     Soon  his  lips  moved  and  he  spoke  : 

"  Night  fleeth  before  the  day.  The  snow  melts  before  the 
rising  sun  and  disappears.  The  stars  are  bright,  the  moon  is 
brighter,  but  what  are  they  in  the  presence  of  the  morning  ? 
rhey  become  shadows  and  are  lost.  The  Red  Men  are  like 
the  stars  and  the  moon — like  the  snow  and  the  night.  The 
mightier  come  and  they  fade  away.  Like  the  ice  of  winter 
they  soften  into  rills  and  are  carried  to  the  sea.  They  can 
not  stand  before  the  thunder  and  the  flame,  the  cannon-ball 
and  the  long  knife,  the  axe  and  the  plow.  Their  hunting- 
grounds  turn  to  fenced  fields,  the  deer  flee  away,  and  their 
women  and  their  little  ones  are  without  food.  Their  wigwams 
change  to  white  houses,  their  castles  and  places  of  council  to 
the  mill  and  the  tall  house  with  the  bell,  to  call  down  the  Great 
Spirit  from  the  cloud.  So  the  Great  Father  hath  determined 
to  take  the  Red  Men  to  himself — to  remove  them  to  a  better 
land — where  game  is  plenty  and  the  white  men  can  not  come. 

"  Oh,  mountains  of  the  bright  and  yellow  sun,  farewell ! 
Pines  that  wave  upon  the  hills,  and  point  the  Red  Man  to  the 
Spirit-land ;  maples  and  cedars  that  whisper  in  the  valleys 
and  sing  the  little  ones  to  sleep ;  birds  that  teach  us  how  to 
love  ;  beasts  that  inspire  our  braves  with  cunning  valor  ;  oh, 
Long  and  Crooked  River !  ye  lakes  of  shining  water,  and  all 
the  streams  that  bring  the  flowers  in  the  dawn  of  spring; 
graves  of  our  sires,  our  country  and  its  glory,  farewell !  No 
longer  is  the  Mohawk  the  terror  of  the  world  ;  the  voice  of 
the  Oneidas,  the  Onondagas,  Cayugas,  and   Senecas  is  still ; 


THE  MARCH,,  363 


the  war-path  is  deserted  ;  the  hunt  has  ceased ;  and  the  war- 
cry  of  the  Nations  that  made  the  pale  ones  tremble,  that  sound- 
ed from  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  that  lies  under  the  north  star,  to 
the  Gulf  Sea,  that  simmers  in  the  sun,  shall  be  heard  no 
more  !     The  Red  Man  goes  to  a  better  land  !" 

The  Mohawk  ceased  speaking.  A  sad  smile  stole  over  his 
features  and  his  extended  arms  fell.  But  ere  the  close  of  his 
rhapsody  he  had  had  another  auditor  besides  Warwick.  His 
wife,  bearing  his  two  children — the  youngest  a  babe,  bound  to 
a  board  with  soft  and  richly  ornamented  leather,  so  that  every 
limb  was  strait,  and  nothing  to  be  seen  but  its  round,  placid 
face  and  starry  eyes,  and  swung  to  her  forehead  by  a  glitter- 
ing belt  of  wampum  and  resting  on  her  back ;  and  the  other  a 
half-naked  boy,  perfect  in  form  as  a  Psyche,  which  she  car- 
ried in  her  arms — had  followed  him  to  take  another  farewell ; 
and  now,  resting  on  one  knee  before  him,  held  up  the  pledges 
of  their  love,  and  looked  with  a  troubled  countenance  into  his 
face. 

The  sight  was  touching  and  beautiful ;  for  the  Indian  wife, 
though  brown,  was  light  for  her  race,  and  her  limbs  and  fea- 
tures as  gracefully  molded  as  an  antelope's  ;  while  her  long 
shining  hair,  black  as  night,  hung  loose  and  divided  upon  her 
shoulders,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  nestled  her  child. 

"  Omalah,"  said  the  chief,  well  pleased,  "  hast  brought  my 
boys  for  another  good-bye  ?  There,  my  brave  ones  !"  contin- 
ued he,  kissing  them  both  and  taking  the  eldest  in  his  arms  ; 
"  and  that  for  thee,  Omalah,"  putting  his  hand  kindly  upon  her 
slioulder  and  pressing  his  lips  to  her  forehead.  "  Thine  be 
it  to  teach  our  little  rnies  to  become  fleet  as  the  deer  and  soar- 
ing as  the  eagle,  brave  and  terrible  to  our  enemies  as  the  hun- 
gry wolf,  and  gentle  as  thyself." 

Another  softer  word  of  parting,  as  Warwick  moved  away, 
and  the  chief  resumed  his  position  at  the  head  of  his  men,  and 
gave  orders  to  renew  the  march.     Whether  he  was  conscious 


'364  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

of  his  prophetic  utterances  of  a  few  moments  before  could  not 
be  known.  Certainly,  now,  he  was  every  inch  the  king,  with 
the  attitude  and  look  of  one  fully  determined  to  vindicate  his 
rights,  from  whatever  quarter  threatened.  Warwick  gazed  on 
him  with  a  feeling  of  awe,  and  a  painful  sense  of  the  probable 
fulfillment  of  the  prophecy  took  possession  of  his  mind.  He 
looked  ahead  through  the  shadowy  vista  of  coming  years,  and 
seemed  to  see  the  Confederacy  of  the  Six  Nations,  now  the 
proudest  and  most  powerful  people  of  all  the  aboriginal  tribes 
of  the  New  World,  fading  away,  perishing  year  by  year  and 
day  by  day,  as  iron  is  consumed  by  rust,  or  the  trees  of  the 
mountain  by  fire.  The  thought  made  him  sad ;  and  sadly 
have  the  foreboding  and  the  prophecy  since  been  fulfilled. 

But  his  own  cares — the  pressing  strait  of  Don  Manuel  and 
his  daughter — soon  resumed  their  sway  over  his  mind  and 
heart,  and  like  ourselves  and  our  government,  in  the  century 
which  has  succeeded,  he  forgot,  or  adjourned  to  a  more  con- 
venient season,  his  momentary  solicitude  for  the  future  of  the 
Indian  ;  though,  certainly,  his  regard  for  the  noble  Mohawk, 
for  Alwyn,  and  others  of  his  friends  of  the  wigwam  and  the 
woods,  was  deep  and  abiding.  He  had  seen  enough  of  them — 
his  associations  with  them  in  infancy,  and  again  in  manhood, 
had  been  of  a  nature  sufficiently  close  to  enable  him  to  under- 
stand them,  both  as  to  their  evil  and  their  good.  If  he  had 
suffered  at  the  hands  of  some,  he  had  been  befriended  by 
others  ;  treated  with  a  confiding  generosity  and  trust,  which 
had  opened  the  inner  recesses  of  the  Indian  character  to  his 
inspection,  and  his  own  best  aff'ections  and  warmest  gratitude 
toward  them  in  return.  To  him  there  could  be  no  doubt  that 
the  Indian  possessed  a  heart,  like  other  men ;  which  only 
needed  to  be  sought  in  order  to  be  found,  and  that  his  good 
faith,  if  not  abused,  might  well  be  trusted. 

Smitten  by  our  vices  as  with  a  plague,  and  taking  not  read- 
ily to  our  virtues,  the  native  people  of  the  country  have  dwin- 


THE  MAROH.  S65r 


died  before  us  and  perished,  as  though  we  had  been  a  hoar 
frost  or  fire  falling  on  them  from  the  clouds.  Our  triumphs  in 
civilization,  art,  learning,  and  government  have  been  but  the 
progressive  records  of  their  downfall  and  extinction.  In 
scarcely  a  portion  of  the  vast  territory  which  yields  allegiance 
to  our  flag,  is  there  any  ritality  remaining  to  the  Indian  tribes, 
except  in  those  central  parts  which  our  growth,  in  its  rapid 
and  exterminating  foray,  has  not  as  yet  reached.  The  mighty 
wave  of  subjugation,  which  commenced  its  swell  on  the  shore 
of  the  Atlantic,  three  centuries  ago,  is  soon  to  be  met  by  an- 
other from  the  Pacific  ;  and  those  central  tribes  which  have 
hitherto  mostly  escaped — the  Camanche,  that  Arab  of  the 
West,  the  Pawnee,  the  Sioux,  and  the  Blackfoot ;  together 
with  those  skeletons  of  tribes  which  our  cruel  and  mistaken 
policy  has  exiled  from  their  ancient  homes,  and  kept  hoisting 
from  point  to  point,  as  they  were  found  still  in  the  way — will 
share  the  fate  of  the  rest.  A  hundred  years  more,  and  the 
Indian  name  is  likely  to  be  preserved  only  in  the  story  of  his 
Wrongs,  unless  a  change,  radical  and  immediate,  is  introduced 
:n  our  dealings  with  this  persecuted  race. 

What  this  change  should  be  is  the  province  of  the  states- 
man, rather  than  the  romancer,  to  determine ;  and  yet  some 
facts  lie  so  near  the  surface  of  the  question  as  to  be  within  the 
reach  of  the  most  superficial  observer.  The  Indian  character 
is  peculiar.  Indian  endurance  has  passed  into  a  proverb,  aqd 
yet  the  Indian  is  frail,  and  exhibits,  as  the  whole  history  of 
the  settlement  of  the  New  World  by  the  whites  proves,  but 
little  tenacity  of  life.  His  physical  frame  is  well  enough — 
indeed,  it  is  a  model  for  a  sculptor — and  under  proper  con- 
ditions bears  fatigue,  exposure,  hunger  and  thirst  which  would 
prostrate  any  one  else,  except,  perhaps,  an  Arab  of  the  desert, 
and  continues  to  do  so  to  old  age.  But  these  conditions  imply 
freedom — freedom  of  action  and  freedom  of  thought.  He  was 
never  intended  for  a  slave.     Like  the  wild  horse  of  the  prairie, 


366  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEK 

he  can  not  bear  restraint,  and  if  hampered  by  the  lasso,  curb- 
ed down  by  the  bit,  and  driven  from  the  fields  and  familiar 
haunts  of  his  youth,  and  the  legendary  associations  of  his  sires, 
he  dies.  His  body  can  not  readily  be  broken,  but  when  con- 
quered, it  is  easy  to  break  his  spirit  and  his  heart. 

This,  I  apprehend,  furnishes  the  true  reason  of  the  decay 
of  the  Indian  race.  Furthermore,  it  is  said  that  the  Indian 
can  not  be  tamed.  This  is  not  so.  Naturally  he  is  attached 
to  the  habits  of  his  life,  which  were  the  habits  of  his  fathers, 
and  his  fathers'  fathers  before  him — to  hunt  and  fish,  and  roam 
from  valley  to  valley,  from  river  to  river,  and  from  lake  to 
lake.  The  policy  of  the  whites  has  been  to  imbrute  him  with 
rum — the  terrible  fire-water,  whose  burning  never  goes  out — 
to  bargain  and  rob  him  of  his  lands,  and  then  pension  him  off 
and  remove  him  out  of  the  way,  like  some  worthless  animal 
whose  presence  was  no  longer  pleasant  to  the  eye.  If,  instead 
of  this,  the  natives  of  the  country  had,  from  the  first,  been  so- 
licited to  become  citizens,  and  merge  themselves  in  the  Repub- 
lic, and  if,  as  they  saw  themselves  hedged  in  by  the  white 
settlements,  and  their  hunting-grounds  restricted  and  becom- 
ing unproductive,  the  arts  of  civilization  had  been  properly 
commended  to  their  attention,  who  will  take  it  upon  him  to 
decide  that  the  experiment  would  have  failed — that,  influenced 
by  kindness  and  the  necessities  of  their  condition,  their  habits 
anight  not  gradually  have  been  changed — and  that,  instead  of 
graves  and  monuments,  minute  and  worthless  remnants  of 
tribes,  scattered  here  and  there,  or  forcibly  removed  to  the 
Indian  Territory  west  of  the  Mississippi,  from  which  our  gov- 
ernment, in  pursuance  of  its  usual  policy,  is  again  endeavoring 
to  expel  them  to  a  still  more  western  home,  destined  to  be 
equally  temporary,  we  might  not  now  have  been  able  to  show, 
in  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  New  England,  and  other  States, 
whole  townships  and  counties  of  our  native  population  trans- 
formed into  thriving  and  valuable  members  of  the  state  1 


THE  MAROH.  367 


This  experiment — the  only  reasonable  and  just  one  ever 
within  our  reach,  after  assuming  that  the  country  was  to  be 
conquered  and  possessed — is  still  to  be  tried.  We  throw  our 
doors  wide  open  to  the  world,  and  offer  citizenship  freely  to 
all.  Even  the  Hindoo  and  the  Chinaman  are  not  excluded. 
Why  then  should  we  exclude  the  Indian,  either  legally  or  vir- 
tually, who,  both  in  body  and  mind,  is  greatly  the  superior  of 
the  Asiatic  tribes,  and  of  many  of  those  from  the  different 
states  of  Europe  who  avail  themselves  of  our  liberality  and 
domicile  with  us  ?  Why  should  we  not  rather,  especially  when 
we  consider  the  debt  we  owe  the  native  lords  of  the  New 
World,  who  have  given  a  virgin  continent  into  our  hands,  with 
all  its  wealth  of  beauty  and  resource,  invite  them  to  share  it 
and  its  honors  with  us  ?  To  remove  them  from  our  path — ^to 
dispossess  them  of  their  soil,  that  we  may  appropriate  it  to 
ourselves — we  do  not  hesitate  even  to  resort  to  compulsion. 
If  force  be  to  be  used  at  all,  would  it  not  be  juster  and  better 
to  resort  to  it  in  imposing  on  them  the  modes  of  civilized  life, 
and  in  building  them  up  into  intelligent  communities  among 
us  where  they  are  ?  In  the  name  of  righteousness  and  mercy, 
let  no  more  of  the  Red  Men  be  exiled  from  the  homes  of  their 
fathers  !  In  the  name  of  decency  and  right,  let  us  extend  free 
brotherhood  and  citizenship  to  the  noble  race  from  whom  we 
have  wrested  this  goodly  land  !  Instead  of  warring  with  them 
— making  a  foolish  display  of  the  might  of  a  great  nation,  by 
carrying  armies  and  slaughter  among  these  poor  people,  when- 
ever, from  real  or  fancied  injuries,  their  wounded  pride  impels 
them  to  resent  our  encroachments — let  us  exhaust  all  the  arts 
of  peace  and  kindness,  and  expend  our  millions,  with  a  pa- 
tience and  perseverance  which  no  obstacles  can  tire,  in  the 
just  endeavor  to  enlighten  and  preserve  them.  Our  honor  and 
dignity  as  a  Christian  nation  demand  this,  humanity  and  the 
peace  of  our  own  minds  require  this  change  of  policy  at  our 
hands. 


368  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

In  all  that  portion  of  this  Indian  continent,  covered  by  the 
old  United  States — indeed,  on  to  the  Mississippi,  it  is  already 
too  late  to  do  any  thing  but  our  duty.  Some  Southern  tribes, 
not  wholly  wasted,  and  a  few  scattered  handfuls  at  the  North, 
will  alone,  of  all  the  original  native  population,  tax  our  bounty 
or  our  care.  But  west  of  the  Mississippi,  in  the  great  basin 
of  the  Missouri,  and  up  and  down  the  slopes  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  a'ong  the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  in  California 
and  Oregon,  there  are  numerous  native  tribes,  which  are  now 
beginning  for  the  first  to  feel  our  heavy  hand  upon  them. 
Toward  them  it  is  not  too  late  to  be  forbearing  and  just.  It 
is  not  too  late  to  preserve  them  from  the  fate  of  their  brethren 
— to  nourish  their  hopes  and  flagging  vitality  into  life  again — 
and  to  make  of  them,  in  the  end,  good  citizens  of  the  Repub- 
lic. But  this  can  not  be  accomplished  with  the  bayonet  and 
revolver.  It  can  not  be  achieved  by  tearing  them  from  their 
homes,  by  breaking  their  spirit  and  their  pride,  by  subduing 
them,  or  by  corrupting  and  gradually  wasting  them  away.  It 
can  only  be  accomplished  by  a  wise  and  resolute  persistency, 
to  return  no  blow  for  blow,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  protect  and 
do  them  good,  and  build  them  up  in  intelligence  and  strength. 
No  people  are  so  low,  no  tribe  is  so  debased,  as  to  remain  for- 
ever callous  to  the  hearty  efforts  of  those  who  would  labor  for 
their  good  ;  and  the  Indian,  above  all  others,  is  blessed  with 
a  keen  eye,  and  the  ability  to  recognize  his  friends. 


THE  SCOUT.  PLAN  OP  THE  ATTACK. 

•'  O'er  deep  morass  and  hill  and  tangled  brake 
The  faithful  runner  kept  his  onward  way, 
Though  night  and  desert  howls  conspired  to  make 
His  path  a  path  of  terror,  where  no  ray 
From  moon  or  star  reminded  him  of  day." 

MEANWHILE  Alwyn,  like  the  flying  deer,  or  rather  the 
pursuing  hound,  was  coursing  over  the  hills.  At  the  first 
moment  after  the  expedition  had  been  determined,  he  had 
started  on  a  scout  in  the  direction  of  the  Spanish  camp.  Well 
acquainted  with  the  ground,  and  encumbered  with  no  arms 
heavier  than  his  hatchet,  and  no  clothes  more  tightly  fitting 
than  his  blanket,  which,  slung  across  his  left  shoulder  and 
passing  under  his  right  arm,  was  made  fast  around  the  waist 
by  a  belt,  he  forsook  the  curves  of  the  river  and  the  beaten 
foot-path  that  run  along  its  border,  and  pushing  into  the  high- 
lands, stopped  not,  and  turned  not  aside,  for  ravine  or  hill,  but 
strait  as  the  flight  of  an  arrow,  in  an  easy  but  rapid  run  or  In- 
dian lope,  he  threaded  the  blind  trail  which  none  but  an  Indian 
could  see,  even  by  daylight,  that  led  by  the  shortest  distance 
to  the  southern  slope  of  the  Bend  Mountain. 

Precisely  what  were  the  thoughts  of  the  runner  as  he  pressed 
through  the  dark  forest  alone,  would  be  curious  to  inquire. 
To  a  mere  observer,  his  personal  interest  in  the  aflfair  which 
lent  wings  to  his  feet  and  vigor  to  his  muscles,  would  not  have 
seemed  great.  Warwick,  it  is  true,  was  his  friend.  For  the 
white  he  had  formed  a  romantic  attachment,  taking  root  in  a 

16* 


370  CAMP  FIBE8  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

mixed  feeling  of  gratitude  and  admiration,  such  as  has  oftsn 
occurred  in  civilized  life  ;  and  for  one's  friend,  it  is  possible 
that  a  man  may  give  his  life.  But  mark  the  brown  youth  as 
he  flies,  and  feel  the  throbbing  of  his  heart,  and  |;iear  him  mur- 
mur the  name  of  the  White  Bird  of  Spain  ;  and  as  he  catches 
a  glimpse  of  a  star  brighter  than  the  rest,  shining  through  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  wishing  that  he  might  be  able  to  pluck 
it  down  and  place  it  as  a  jewel  in  her  hair.  And  yet  it  was 
Captain  Warwick's  white  bird  that  he  was  so  anxious  to  n^ake 
happy,  by  aiding  to  rescue  her  from  the  power  of  a  man  she 
hated  to  place  her  forever  in  the  arms  of  another,  and  the  one 
she  loved. 

Such  were  the  feelings  that  nerved  the  young  Indian,  as 
with  incredible  speed  he  compassed  the  distance  of  some  four 
leagues  through  the  woods  which  intervened  between  the 
Oquago  village  and  the  Spanish  camp  ;  halting  not,  nor  so  much 
as  breaking  his  /ope,  until  he  reached  the  cleared  space  which 
immediately  surrounded  the  fortress.  There  he  paused,  but 
not  for  breath.  It  was  still  dark.  Morning  was  at  hand,  but 
had  not  yet  broke  ;  and  perceiving  no  stir  in  the  camp,  he  stole 
silently  to  the  ditch,  which  he  bridged  in  a  moment  with  a 
slender  pole,  on  which  he  balanced  himself  across,  like  a  rope- 
dancer,  and  gained  the  pickets.  The  ascent  to  the  top  of  these 
was  for  him  an  easy  task ;  the  scaling  of  the  sharp  points 
above  was  attended  with  more  difliculty  and  risk.  But  these 
he  braved  without  a  moment's  hesitation  ;  and,  grasping  the 
iron  spikes  with  his  hands,  with  a  supple  spring  threw  his 
body  in  the  air,  and  supporting  for  an  instant  his  whole  weight 
on  his  arms,  turned  half  round  like  a  top,  and  dropped  down 
lightly  to  the  ground. 

Here  he  made  another  pause,  but  discovering  nothing  to  ex- 
cite alarm,  he  started  on  his  hands  and  knees  in  the  direction 
of  Don  Manuel's  lodge.  '  This  he  gained  in  safety,  but  discov- 
ered to  his  dismay  that  it  was  inclosed  by  a  patrol  of  senti- 


THE  8C0VT.  371 


nels.  He  waited  and  listened ;  and  soon  perceived  that  they 
often  halted  and  gathered  in  a  knot  for  a  moment's  conversa- 
tion, and  was  very  sure  that  he  recognized  in  their  low  tones, 
as  well  as  in  their  shadowy  outlines,  some  of  the  most  attach- 
ed and  unscrupulous  menials  of  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino. 
Alarmed  at  this,  he  determined  at  all  hazards  to  know  the 
worst.  Taking  advantage  of  a  favorable  moment,  he  gained 
a  corner  of  the  low  building,  and  running  up  the  lapped  and 
projecting  logs  like  a  cat,  in  an  instant  was  on  the  roof  and 
mostly  concealed  from  observation.  Drawing  himself  along 
to  the  aperture  left  for  the  escape  of  the  smoke,  he  thrust  in 
his  head  and  took  a  survey  of  the  interior. 

A  lamp  was  burning  in  the  room,  and  he  had  no  difficulty 
in  at  once  recognizing  Don  Manuel,  the  Lady  Viola,  and  her 
maid  Ruby.  They  were  fully  dressed  as  though  they  had  not 
been  in  bed,  and  evidently  in  a  state  of  alarm  and  agitation  ; 
but  if  prisoners,  as  every  thing  seemed  to  indicate,  it  was  clear 
that  they  were  not  conquered.  The  Spaniard  was  walking  the 
narrow  room  with  a  hasty  stride,  his  pistols  were  in  his  belt 
and  sword  by  his  side  ;  and  he  occasionally  fingered  his  weap- 
ons as  though  he  expected  and  desired  an  opportunity  for  their 
use  at  no  very  distant  period.  The  daughter  and  maid  were 
nervous  and  weeping  ;  still  the  former  constantly  checked  her 
tears  to  speak  soothing  words  to  her  father,  and  to  take  him  by 
the  arm  and  endeavor  to  induce  him  to  sit  down. 

Alwyn  had  little  time  to  continue  his  observations.  Day- 
light would  break  upon  the  scene  in  a  very  brief  space — in- 
deed, the  haze  of  morning  was  already  on  the  hills.  He  would 
gladly  have  leaped  below  and  shared  the  fate  of  his  white 
friends,  whatever  that  was  destined  to  be,  had  the  duties  with 
which  his  mission  was  charged  permitted.  As  it  was,  he 
could  not  leave  them  without  an  effort  to  make  known  his  pres- 
ence, that  they  might  be  supported  and  encouraged  by  the 
knowledge  that  help  was  at  hand  ;  and  his  ingenuity  readily 


372  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TEE  RED  MEN. 

supplied  him  with  a  way,  which  he  determined  to  risk,  and 
forthwith  proceeded  to  put  in  execution. 

The  little  ring  that  had  once  been  Yiola's — a  talisman, 
which,  to  him,  possessed  a  mysterious  charm — was  ever  in 
his  possession  as  a  sign  of  authority,  when  he  scouted  in  the 
direction  of  the  Spanish  quarters  :  and  now,  attaching  it  to  a 
slender  thread,  a  sinew  of  the  deer,  he  let  it  down  through  the 
opening,  and  swung  it  back  and  forth  for  the  purpose  of  attract- 
ing attention.  For  several  weary  minutes  this  exercise  was 
continued  in  vain,  notwithstanding  a  supplementary  addition 
of  various  slight  sounds  on  which  he  ventured  ;  until  Ruby, 
rising  from  her  seat  and  palsing  beneath,  was  struck  by  the 
missive  in  th*  face.  She  stopped,  distinguished  the  shining 
circle,  and  grasped  it  in  her  hand.  It  was  instantly  recog- 
nized ;  and,  following  the  thread  upward  with  her  eye,  she 
discovered  without  alarm  the  round,  pleased  features  of  Alwyn 
faintly  shadowed  in  the  aperture  above. 

To  call  the  attention  of  Viola  and  Don  Manuel  to  this  unex- 
pected apparition  was  matter  of  a  moment ;  and  all  gathered 
round,  and  the  Spaniard  mounted  on  a  stool,  in  order  to  bring 
himself  more  immediately  into  the  vicinity  of  the  young  scout. 
The  Indian  motion od  them  to  circumspection  and  silence  ;  and 
th>n,  in  a  clear,  round  whisper,  distinct  instead  of  loud,  audi- 
ble in  any  part  of  the  room,  he  said : 

"  Captain  Warwick,  Great  Michael  the  White  Eagle,  Wis- 
set  the  Mohawk  brave  and  his  red  skins  are  in  the  woods. 
White  Bird  !  they  have  guns  and  long  knives  ;  they'll  soon  be 
here  :  don't  cry  !" 

Suddenly  giving  the  ring  a  jerk,  it  flew  from  Viola's  hand, 
where  the  poor  lady  had  been  pressing  it  as  a  silent,  but  joy- 
ful harbinger  of  hope,  and  Alwyn  drew  it  up  and  disappeared 
from  the  vision  of  the  prisoners.  Carefully  watching  his 
chances,  he  descended  from  the  lodge,  scaled  the  pickets  again 
with  the  same  agility  and  safety  as  before,  and  was  soon,  with 


TEE  SCOUT.  373 


the  same  measured  paces  that  had  brought  him  thither,  push- 
ing his  rapid  way  down  the  mountain. 

For  several  weary  miles  did  the  young  Indian  pursue  his 
onward  course  with  the  like  unbroken  step,  but  this  time  by 
the  river  bank.  The  birds  sung  to  him  and  flew  about  his 
path  as  he  went — the  robin,  the  black-bird,  the  lark,  and  many 
others — the  turtle-doves  cooed,  the  whip-poor-will,  frightened, 
sprung  from  his  bush,  and  the  partridge  from  the  track ;  the 
black-snake  and  the  rattle-snake,  fled  from  his  feet  or  were 
cleared  at  a  bound ;  the  sun  poured  down  upon  him,  and  hun- 
ger became  clamorous  in  its  calls,  but  without  diverting  him 
from  his  purpose  or  slackening  his  footsteps.  Appeasing  the 
demands  of  the  last  by  simply  tightening  the  belt  aroiAid  his 
waist,  he  pressed  on  ;  and  at  length  had  the  satisfaction  to  dis- 
cover the  war-party,  for  whose  appearance  he  was  so  anxious^ 
winding  its  way,  in  single  file,  along  the  river  bank. 

As  the  faithful  runner  was  seen  approaching,  the  Mohawk 
called  a  halt,  and  the  warriors,  forgetting  their  usual  caution 
in  the  confidence  and  exhilaration  of  the  moment,  received 
him  with  a  burst  of  cheers  which  awoke  the  echoes  of  the 
forest  and  reverberated  from  the  distant  hills  across  the  water. 

The  report  of  the  young  scout  was  made  in  a  very  few 
words,  and  the  chiefs  held  a  brief  consultation.  Warwick 
and  Johnson  could  not  well  repress  their  apprehension  at  the 
apparent  condition  of  affairs  at  the  Spanish  camp,  and  the  dan- 
gers to  which  Don  Manuel  and  the  Lady  Viola  were  exposed 
from  the  unscrupulous  violence  of  Don  Ferdinand ;  and  the 
Mohawk  chief,  readily  entering  into  their  feelings,  expressed 
his  willingness  to  risk  a  day-attack,  and  push  forward  and 
punish  the  miscreant  at  once. 

Their  plans  were  soon  matured,  involving  as  they  did  only 
the  simplest  elements  of  warfare  applicable  to  an  assault  on 
a  fortified  place — secrecy  of  approach,  celerity  of  movement, 
and  bravery  at  the  ramparts.     They  accordingly  recommenced 


374  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

their  march  with  a  caution  which  had  not  hitherto  been  observ 
ed.  All  shouting,  noise,  and  conversation  louder  than  an  under- 
tone were  suppressed,  and  scouts  were  thrown  in  advance 
upon  the  highlands  and  the  path  they  were  pursuing,  in  order 
to  prevent  their  approach  from  being  discovered  by  any  chance 
straggler  from  the  camp. 

In  this  manner  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
Stopping  a  little  short  of  the  open  meadows,  which  here  skirt- 
ed the  shore  of  the  Susquehanna,  each  man  cut  with  his 
hatchet  a  strong  branch  or  bush,  full  of  its  verdant  leaves,  both 
to  conceal  his  person,  in  case  of  need,  during  the  ascent  of  the 
irregular  and  sometimes  bare  sides  of  the  hill,  and  to  use  as 
fascines  to  fill  the  ditch,  when  they  should  reach  the  fortress. 
Thus  provided  they  moved  up  the  mountain,  noiselessly  as  the 
panther  when  he  is  stealing  on  his  prey.  No  word  was  utter- 
ed above  a  whisper,  no  dry  limb  was  broken  by  a  careless 
step,  scarcely  a  leaf  was  rustled.  Sometimes  they  marched 
m  orderly  single  file,  and  again,  at  a  motion  of  their  chief,  they 
would  separate,  each  springing  to  the  shelter  and  concealment 
of  a  bush  or  tree  ;  or  they  would  drop  motionless  on  the  ground 
or  crawl  upon  their  hands  and  knees,  as  the  nature  of  the  oc- 
casion required,  to  cover  them  from  observation.  In  this  way 
they  reached  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  fortress, 
where,  concealed  in  a  field  of  laurel  behind  an  intervening 
blufl?",  they  awaited  the  reappearance  of  Johnson,  who  had  left 
them  farther  down  the  mountain  for  the  purpose  of  spying  out 
more  fully  the  real  posture  of  affairs  within  the  camp. 

Here,  for  a  brief  space,  each  minute  lengthening  itself  into 
an  hour,  and  each  hour  into  a  day,  Warwick  was  compelled  to 
smother  his  apprehensions,  and  content  himself  as  best  he 
might  until  the  time  of  action  should  arrive.  The  task,  in- 
deed, was  a  severe  one. 

"  Did  you  get  no  glimpse  of  Don  Ferdinand,  no  clue  to  what 
had  occurred,  nothing  by  which  you  could  determine  whether 


TEE  SCOUT.  375 


Don  Manuel  had  been  overpowered  by  force  or  stratagem  ?" 
inquired  he  of  Alwyn. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  Indian.  "  Me  no  dare  to  make  them 
talk.  Logs  have  ears,  and  Alwyn  could  not  run  so  fast  as  the 
Spaniard's  bullets." 

"  You  were  wise,"  continued  Warwick.  "  It  is  best  as  it  is. 
A  further  risk  might  have  endangered  all — the  assault,  as  well 
as  your  safety — but  the  uncertainty  that  precedes  action,  in 
the  hour  of  peril,  is  more  trying  even  to  the  soldier,  schooled 
to  patience  and  endurance  as  he  is,  than  the  peril  itself  when 
it  comes." 

The  Mohawk  was  sitting  beside  Warwick  and  Alwyn,  on 
a  little  patch  of  grass  shaded  by  laurel  bushes,  and,  pointing 
with  his  finger  to  a  flowering  vine,  which  was  slowly  toiling 
up  a  stalk,  he  said : 

"  A  day  and  a  night — a  whole  moon — it  will  take  that  creep- 
er to  work  its  way  up  through  leaves  and  around  branches, . 
seizing  hold  of  a  twig  here  and  another  there,  to  help  it  on  its 
way,  and  making  twenty  journeys  around  the  laurel  stem  to 
no  purpose  but  to  render  its  progress  secure  as  it  advances  ; 
but  by-and-by  it  will  reach  the  top,  and  come  out  into  the  light 
and  air,  where  it  can  see  the  sun,  and  blossom  and  be  happy." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  lesson,"  said  Warwick.  "  It  is  not  a 
new  one,  but  needs,  often  to  be  enforced.  The  white,  the 
Indian,  and  the  flower,  in  this  respect,  are  all  alike.  Patience 
— work  and  wait — is  the  common  rule  for  each.  As  you 
would  say  in  your  figurative  language,  the  strong  eye  of  the 
eagle  to  look  up,  the  courage  of  the  wolf,  and  the  perseverance 
of  that  running  vine,  are  necessary  to  success.  I  am  not  loth 
to  work,  and  will  also  learn  to  wait,  during  those  lulls  which 
most  commonly  precede  the  grand  climaxes  and  catastrophes 
of  life,  as  well  as  those  periods  when  nothing  can  be  done  but 
to  watch  the  germinating  and  maturing  of  the  fruits  of  labor 
already  expended." 


376  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

"  Thou  art  wise  in  the  resolve,"  said  the  chief.  "  When 
we  have  done  what  we  can,  we  have  done  *all.  The  Great 
Spirit  giveth  victory<or  defeat,  and  it  is  dseless  for  us  to  afflict 
ourselves,  lest  his  purposes  overturn  our  own.  We  must  give 
way.  But  if  we  are  men,  he  will  treat  us  as  iTien,  and  lead 
us  by  the  hand  into  pleasant  and  fruitful  fields  and  warm 
lodges  ;  for  the  father  delighteth  to  make  his  children  happy. 
But  your  enemy  shall  howl  to-day  on  his  mountain,  like  the 
wolf  that  has  lost  her  young." 

Again  the  chief  passed  into  a  sort  of  ecstasy,  such  as  War- 
wick had  witnessed  in  the  morning,  and  continued : 

*'  The  hawk  is  on  the  wing ;  the  vulture  and  the  crow  for- 
get their  fear,  and  run  upon  the  ground.  The  beasts  of  prey 
are  yelling  in  the  woods,  as  they  scent  the  smell  of  blood. 
The  clouds  are  gathering,  the  winds  are  crying  in  the  north, 
and  raging  to  get  loose.  They  break  their  barriers  and  rush 
among  the  hills,  and  whistle  through  the  trees.  The  voice 
of  the  thunder  comes,  and  the  lightning  cuts  like  a  knife.  The 
rain  pours  down,  and  a  rotten  tree  is  crushed  and  falls  with  a 
great  noise.  The  storm  ceases,  the  bow  of  the  Great  Spirit 
spans  the  sky,  and  his  fatherly  eye  looks  out  again  upon  the 
world  through  the  face  of  the  sun.  The  fields  and  the  trees, 
bird,  man,  and  beast,  are  refreshed,  and  rejoice  in  the  beauty 
of  his  smile.  But  wo  to  the  tyrant  of  the  hour  for  whom 
the  storm  was  prepared.  He  lies  low  with  the  tree  that  was 
smitten,  and  goeth  back  to  dust.  His  maidens  across  the  sea 
will  call  to  him,  but  he  will  not  hear.  His  mother  and  sisters' 
will  weep  for  him,  but  he  will  not  see  their  tears.  He  shall 
rot  with  the  snake  and  the  turtle  ;  but  the  white  bird  whom 
he  had  caught  in  a  cage  shall  be  set  free  and  sing  upon  the 
hills  ;  and  by  her  side  shall  rejoice  the  young  brave  to  whom 
she  hath  given  all  her  love." 

The  Mohawk  ceased  speaking,  and  resumed  his  accustomed 
appearance,  as  though  nothing  unusual  had  occurred.     War- 


THE  SCOVT.  377 


wick  was  too  much  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts — with  the 
prophetic  vision  to  which  he  had  been  listening,  which  seem- 
ed to  shadow  forth  the  impending  events  of  the  day,  and  to  lift 
the  mysterious  vail  from  his  dark  future,  prefiguring  to  his 
gaze  a  glowing  horizon  of  light  and  a  still  haven  of  rest,  at  no 
grt'at  distance  ahead,  as  the  termination  of  the  thick  harvest 
of  difficulties  which  he  had  latterly  been  reaping — to  continue 
the  conversation,  and  he  accordingly  made  no  rejoinder.  He 
was  not  superstitious,  but  how  could  it  be  otherwise  than  that 
the  weird  utterance  of  the  chief  should  add  to  his  confidence 
and  hope  ?  It  had  this  effect,  and  in  calmness  and  courage  he 
thenceforth  awaited  the  development  of  his  destiny. 


A   COUP-DE-MAIN.     POSTUBB    OF   AFFAIRS    AT   THE    SPANISH    CAMP. 


'  Ah,  who  will  help  me  In  my  deep  despair  ? 

I  call,  but  who  will  come  ?    Man  and  the  day, 
Nature  and  Heaven,  have  fled,  and  left  me  here 

To  i>eriBb  with  my  child." 


RETURN  we  now  to  the  Spanish  fortress.  The  miserable 
Ambrose  was  already  dead,  illustrating  very  clearly  in 
his  last  hours,  that  if  the  approach  of  the  final  messenger  is 
generally  alarming,  to  him  who  has  spent  his  life  in  excesses 
and  crimes,  wrongs  committed  against  his  neighbor  and  him- 
self, it  is  terrible  indeed.  Night  shut  in  on  a  distracted  camp. 
The  men,  released  from  their  accustomed  restraint,  availed 
themselves  of  the  largesses  which  Don  Ferdinand  had  dis- 
tributed liberally  among  them,  and  gave  the  time  to  carousal. 
Don  Manuel  and  his  daughter  remained  in  their  cabin.  Signor 
Antonio  and  Doctor  Oquetos  were  with  them  until  a  late 
hour ;  but  Don  Manuel  himself,  conscious  of  his  weakness, 
and  relying  on  the  truce  which  the  chevalier  had  publicly 
proclaimed,  until  the  following  day  at  noon,  decided  to  make 
no  change  in  his  domestic  arrangements,  and  to  adopt  no  un- 
usual measures  for  security  or  defense.  A  single  sentinel  was 
stationed  at  the  door. 

Don  Manuel  lay  down  in  his  clothes  with  his  weapons  by 
his  side.  He  found  it  in  vain  to  sleep.  The  pressing  diffi- 
culties of  his  situation  overwhelmed  him  ;  and  with  the  rest, 
the  absence  of  Michael  Johnson,  in  himself  a  host,  perplexed 


A  COUP-DB-MAm.  379 


him  not  a  little.  Sometimes  he  felt  disposed  to  draw  encour- 
agement from  the  fact.  It  was  possible  that  he  had  gone  on 
a  mission  to  Captain  Warwick,  and  both  might  appear  for  his 
succor  at  the  moment  of  his  greatest  need.  Again,  he  feared 
that  the  old  man  had  met  with  some  accident  in  the  forest ;  or, 
still  more  likely,  that  Don  Ferdinand  had  caused  him  to  be 
waylaid  and  slain.  Nervous  and  restless,  he  turned  from  side 
to  side,  and  morning  was  already  at  hand  when  he  at  length 
sunk  into  a  troubled  repose.  From  this  he  was  aroused  by 
the  report  of  a  pistol.  Springing  from  his  couch,  and  hearing 
the  noise  of  a  struggle  at  the  door,  he  withdrew  the  bolts,  but 
found  that  it  had  been  secured  from  the  outside.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  the  windows,  but  was  there  met  with  weapons 
pointed  within.  He  demanded  an  explanation.  No  answer 
was  returned.  He  shouted  to  alarm  his  friends,  and  called  on 
his  few  faithful  remaining  adherents  to  come  to  the  rescue  of 
their  lord.  But  no  one  came,  and  'at  last  he  was  obliged  to 
admit  that  he  was  a  prisoner  in  his  own  quarters.  Humili- 
ating as  was  this  result  to  the  haughty  Spaniard,  he  was  still 
consoled  by  the  presence  of  his  daught^.  Viola  was  as  yet 
safe,  and  he  was  with  her,  with  arms  in  his  hands,  to  defend 
her.  In  sorrowful  attempts  to  console  and  support  each  other, 
the  father  and  the  child  anxiously  awaited  the  approach  of 
day. 

Don  Ferdinand  had  now  the  complete  mastery  of  the  camp. 
By  a  coup-de-main  he  had  carried  every  thing,  and  with 
scarcely  a  scratch  on  either  side.  A  slight  flesh-wound,  in- 
flicted by  the  shot  of  the  sentinel  at  the  door  of  Don  Manuel's 
quarters,  on  one  of  his  partisans,  was  the  severest  injury 
given  or  received.  But  having  proceeded  thus  far,  the  cheva- 
lier seemed  little  inclined  to  follow  up  his  advantage.  The 
object  of  his  pursuit  was  now  at  his  mercy;  and  satisfied  with 
his  triumph,  and  prompted  by  his  indecision,  and  still  fain  to 
cling  to  the  semblance  of  fairness,  he  avowed  the  intention, 


380  CAMP  FIBES  OF  TEE  BED  MEN.  I 

like  an  honorable  knight,  to  await  the  set  hour  of  noon  for  the 
full  realization  of  his  wishes. 

"How  lenient!"  said  Don  Manuel,  bitterly.     "Howmer-| 
ciful  is  Cassino  to  his  prisoners — his  intended  wife  and  father !  | 
Why  wait  till  noon  ?     Why  not  celebrate  his  nuptials  at  once,  ^ 
by  torchlight,  and  compel  his  bride  to  his  bosom  before  the 
dawn  of  morning  ?     He  is  losing  much  time,  and  subjecting 
himself  to  the  imputation  of  an  unmanly  weakness.     Besides, 
the  day  may  blush,  while  night  and  its  ghouls  would  rejoice 
to  hold  high  carnival  with  him  over  acts  like  these.     My 
daughter !  my  daughter !" 

"  Father !"  said  Viola,  beseechingly,  with  face  as  white  as 
snow,  and  lips  that  quivered  with  terror ;  "  sit  down  beside 
me,  and  let  us  be  calm.  Has  Heaven  forsaken  us,  and  all  its 
good  angels  fled  ?  I  can  not  think  it.  There  are  ways  by 
which  God  can  save  us  yet.     Shall  we  not  trust  him  ?" 

"  Trust  Him  !"  echoed  Don  Manuel,  impatiently.  "  We  are 
forsaken  by  all — all  on  earth  and  all  in  heaven.  Where  is 
he  we  call  good  Michael  ?  Where  is  Captain  Warwick  %  and 
the  Father  of  the  forsaken  hath  forsaken  us  too,  Viola." 

"  Oh,  say  not  so,  father  !"  said  Viola,  imploringly. 

"  I  did  not  mean  it,"  returned  Don  Manuel,  hurriedly.  "  I 
retract  it  as  foolishness  hastily  uttered  ;  for  now  when  help 
from  the  hand  of  man  fails  us,  in  this  distant  wilderness  as  we 
are  ;  where  no  human  eye  can  see  us,  no  human  voice  can 
cheer  us  with  hope,  who  can  find  us  out  but  God  %  Who  else 
can  help  us  ?  If  we  cut  loose  from  him,  we  are  alone— afloat, 
Viola,  on  a  shoreless  sea." 

Viola  arose,  and,  throwing  her  arms  around  him,  kissed  him 
warmly  on  the  cheek.  He  embraced  her  fondly  in  return, 
and  led  her  back  to  the  little  stool  on  which  she  had  been 
sitting.     Both  seemed  more  calm. 

"  Cassino  has  been  too  fast,"  continued  the  Spaniard,  after 
a  little  pause.     "  He  thinks  to  bend  us,  crush  us,  to  his  pur- 


A  COVP^DE-MAW.  ggf 


pose,  but  he  will  fail.  Knows  he  not  that  I  have  still  an  arm, 
and  weapons  to  defend  my  child  ?  and,  with  God's  help,  I  will 
use  them  to  the  utmost.  Does  he  flatter  himself  that  I  may- 
be compelled  to  assent  to  an  act  I  abhor?  He  mistakes  me. 
He  may  take  my  life,  if  God  will — thine  too,  my  daughter — 
but  that  is  all.  And  should  I  perish  and  thou  be  left,  Viola, 
I  charge  thee  by  thy  father's  honor,  and  by  thine  own,  what- 
ever woes  may  threaten,  whatever  may  befall,  to  remain 
firm  by  the  decision  I  have  made.  Whether  he  may  give  you 
an  honest  marriage  or  not,  any  fate  would  be  better  than  io 
become  his  wife." 

The  Lady  Viola,  in  her  extreme  pallor  looking  more  like 
alabaster  than  flesh  and  blood,  with  the  tears  coursing  down 
her  cheeks,  crossed  her  hands  upon  her  breast,  and,  lifting  her 
eyes  to  heaven,  said  : 

"  I  bow  to  thy  will,  kind  Father !  but,  with  thy  blessing,  I 
am  resolved  not  to  degrade  my  body  nor  my  affections,  what- 
ever this  man  may  do,  whatever  may  betide." 

"  Amen !"  ejaculated  Ruby.  "  I  will  stand  by  you,  my  lady, 
and  die  with  you,  so  you  hold  firmly  to  that." 

In  a  better  frame  of  mind  the  three  continued  their  efforts' 
to  console  and  support  each  another.  They  had  looked  the 
worst  that  could  happen  in  the  face,  and  resolved  to  abide  it 
should  it  come,  and  felt  strengthened.  Don  Manuel  continued 
to  walk  the  floor,  for,  notwithstanding  the  improved  condition 
of  his  feelings,  he  could  not  at  once  overcome  his  physical 
restlessness  ;  when,  suddenly,  a  slight  exclamation  from  Ruby 
arrested  his  footsteps,  and,  on  looking  in  the  direction  she 
pointed,  he  recognized  the  young  Indian,  Alwyn,  at  the  open- 
ing in  the  roof. 

The  brief  mter view  which  succeeded  has  already  been  nar- 
rated, but  the  surprise  and  joy  with  which  the  unexpected 
announcement  of  the  scout  filled  the  little  party  can  not  so 
readily  be  written.     A  moment  more  and  he  had  vanished ; 


382  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEFT. 

but  he  left  hope  behind  him,  and  the  Lady  Viola  and  her  maid 
dried  their  tears. 

"Merciful  Heaven!"  ejaculated  Ruby;  "will  my  mistress 
be  saved  ?     The  good  Lord  has  heard  us  quickly." 

As  for  Viola,  she  was  too  much  affected  to  speak.  She 
could  only  clasp  her  father,  and  rest  in  silence  in  his  arms. 
Don  Manuel  pressed  her  to  his  breast,  and  his  heart  went  up 
in  thanksgiving  to  the  Great  Dispenser  of  events,  whose 
mercy,  but  a  little  while  before,  he  had  been  so  ready  to 
distrust. 

"  We  are  not  forgotten,  Viola,"  he  whispered.  "  God  is 
more  mindful  of  us  than  we  have  been  of  him,  or  help,  just  at 
the  moment  of  our  extremity,  when  least  to  be  looked  for, 
would  not  have  been  provided.  Pray,  my  daughter,  that  I  may 
be  forgiven." 

By  this  time  daylight  had  broken  upon  the  mountain,  and 
morning  began  to  illuminate  the  interior  of  the  cabin  with  its 
cheerful  eye.  With  its  coming,  the  sound  of  a  bugle  saluted 
the  ears  of  the  prisoners ;  and  while  they  were  in  wonder  as 
to  the  meaning  of  the  strain,  for  it  seemed  to  issue  from  the 
little  court  of  the  lodge,  a  herald  was  announced  with  a  formal 
message  from  Don  Ferdinand.  That  gentleman,  with  a 
strange  forgetfulness  of  himself  and  his  acts,  now  proposed  to 
open  a  friendly  negotiation  with  his  fair  prisoner  and  her 
father,  for  an  adjustment  of  differences.  As  he  ought  to  have 
anticipated,  the  offer  was  spurned  by  both  with  indignation. 
Don  Manuel  refused  to  hold  any  intercourse  either  with  the 
herald  or  his  master  ;  and  Don  Ferdinand  perceived  that  re- 
straint had  done  nothing  toward  humbling  the  pride  of  the 
haughty  Spaniard.  Still  the  chevalier  was  not  one  readily  to 
yield  a  point.  Determined  to  carry  his  end,  he  was,  never- 
theless, alarmed  at  the  present  posture  of  the  affair,  and  its 
possible  termination.  A  bride  absolutely  forced  into  his  arms, 
while  her  father  was  being  bound  in  her  presence,  was  a  cuJ 


A  COUP'DE-MAIir.  383 


mination  if  possible  to  be  avoided.  Besides,  he  knew  very 
well  that  Don  Manuel  was  not  likely  to  yield  without  a  brave 
resistance  ;  and  though  he  had  succeeded  in  mastering  the 
camp,  and  shutting  him  up  in  his  lodge,  he  now  began  to  real- 
ize that  his  victory  was  not  complete.  The  Lady  Viola  had 
still  to  be  separated  from  her  father,  and  Don  Manuel  to  be 
disarmed.  Hence,  as  the  herald  met  with  his  rebuff,  the  loud 
voice  of  Don  Ferdinand  himself,  in  continuation  of  the  effort, 
was  heard  in  the  court. 

"  Cassino,  in  his  forbearance,"  said  he, "  makes  still  another 
offer  to  negotiate.  Though  in  a  position  to  command  his 
rights,  he  prefers  the  gentler  method  of  persuasion.  He 
would  have  no  hardnesses  between  himself  and  the  wife  of  his 
love.  He  would  have  no  thought  of  bitterness  between  him- 
self and  his  old  friend,  and  the  friend  of  his  father,  Don  Manuel 
Torrillo.  He  would  be  at  peace  with  all,  arid  especially  with 
those  so  dear  to  him,  and  with  whom  he  is  so  closely  allied. 
And  does  he  ask  aught  but  what  is  his  due—  any  thing  that  Don 
Manuel  or  his  daughter  has  any  proper  pretext  for  refusing  to 
grant  1  Does  he  demand  more  than  the  fulfillment  of  a  most 
solemn  contract  ?  Has  he  not  exhibited  his  devotion,  the 
ardor  of  his  affection,  by  years  of  patient  attention,  by  thou- 
sands of  miles  of  travel  and  vast  expenditures  of  money,  such 
as  no  other  noble  of  Spam  would  have  laid  at  the  feet  of  any 
maiden,  however  fair  1  Then,  if  all  this  be  so,  will  not  the 
Lady  Viola  and  her  father  listen  to  his  just  requests,  and  place 
themselves,  by  the  act,  once  more  in  comfort  and  independence, 
such  as  their  rank  in  life  demands — or  if  not,  what  reasons 
can  they  show  for  the  perpetration  of  an  outrage,  so  undeserv- 
ed, on  an  innocent  man ;  or  in  defense  of  a  course,  on  their 
own  part,  so  inexplicable  and  strange  ?" 

Don  Manuel  made  no  reply,  and,  after  a  brief  delay,  the 
chevalier  continued : 

"I  will  settle  on  the  Lady  Yiola  Torrillo,  as  my  wife,  to 


384  OAMP  ftHes  of  tite  rk:)  mkw 


her  and  her  heirs  forever,  in  addition  to  settlements  already 
specifically  stated  in  our  marriage  contract,  long  since  drawn 
up,  my  estate  in  Andalusia,  the  income  of  which  is  six  thou- 
sand pistoles  a  year.  And  if  there  be  any  other  way  which 
the  lady  or  her  father  can  devise,  by  which  I  may  manifest 
the  reality  and  strength  of  my  affection,  let  it,  I  pray  you,  be 
named." 

"  Don  Ferdinand  de  Cassino,"  said  Don  Manuel,  in  a  firm, 
dignified  voice,  "  the  time  for  negotiation  between  us  is  past, 
never  to  be  renewed.  You  spend  your  breath  in  vain,  and 
exhibit  your  generosity  to  no  purpose.  I  will  have  no  terms 
with  you — no  intercourse  ;  and,  willingly,  no  word,  hence- 
forth, forever." 

"  Be  it  as  you  will,  proud  sir,"  returned  Cassino,  with  a 
sneer.  "I  have  known  loftier  tempers  subdued— haughtier 
natures  humbled.  To  me  it  is  matter  of  little  concern.  No 
power  can  save  you  from  my  hand,  and  still  I  would  avoid 
compulsion.  The  tears  of  the  woman  I  love  would  touch  my 
heart  too  deeply.  The  enmity,  impotent  though  it  be,  of  an 
old  friend  whom  I  so  profoundly  esteem,  would  jar  my  nerves 
unpleasantly.  I  would  greatly  prefer  to  make  you  both  happy 
in  the  enjoyment  of  my  wealth,  my  care,  and  my  love.  I  give 
you  yet  to  the  hour  of  noon  to  render  your  final  decision." 

Thus  saying,  with  another  blast  of  the  bugle,  Don  Ferdi- 
nand and  his  herald  retired.  Don  Manuel,  deeply  chafed, 
like  a  caged  lion,  strode  hurriedly  back  and  forth  across  the 
room  ;  while  the  Lady  Viola,  every  nerve  of  her  body  in  com- 
motion, lay  gasping  for  breath  in  the  arms  of  her  maid. 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  terrible,"  said  she,  faintly.  "  When  will  it 
end — when  shall  I  be  at  rest?  But  how  selfish  I  am,  as 
though  I  alone  were  the  sufferer  from  the  tyranny  of  this  man  ! 
Our  weaknesses  are  very  strong  upon  us,  sometimes  ;  but  I 
will  endeavor  to  exhibit  more  fortitude  and  courage.  Will  help 
come  ?     This  dark  uncertainty  is  dreadful  to  endure." 


A  COUP-DE-MAIK  385 


With  a  powerful  effort  at  composure  she  arose  and  tottered 
to  the  window. 

"  Help  will  come,"  responded  Ruby,  with  a  cheerful  voice. 
"  Think  you  Captain  Warwick  and  good  Michael  will  play  the 
laggard  ?  No.  Before  noon  they  will  pull  this  mountam  nest 
of  the  vulture  down  about  his  ears,  and  set  us  free." 

With  this  she  drew  the  rough  board,  mounted  on  legs, 
which  answered  the  purpose  of  a  table,  under  the  opening  in 
the  roof:  and  placing  thereon  a  stool,  perched  herself  upon 
it,  and  protruded  her  head  through  the  aperture  to  see  what 
discoveries  she  could  make.  Tediously  as  dragged  each  mo- 
ment by  itself,  the  morning  was  rapidly  wearing  away.  In 
the  camp  all  was  quiet — indeed,  a  stillness  unusual  and  por- 
tentous seemed  resting  upon  it.  No  sports  were  in  progress, 
no  one  was  astir.  The  sentinels  stood  mutely  at  their  posts, 
and  beast  and  bird  were  dumb.  These  who  kept  guard  about 
the  lodge  had  gathered,  as  she  concluded,  under  its  shady 
side,  as  she  heard  the  low  murmur  of  voices,  hardly  above  a 
whisper,  coming  up  in  that  direction,  which  was  the  only 
sound  that  met  her  ear.  She  gazed  down  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  pausing  in  her  scrutiny  at  each  tree,  and  bush,  and 
field  of  laurel,  but  with  no  better  success.  Nothing  stirred — 
there  was  not  even  a  breath  of  air  to  shake  an  aspen-leaf,  and 
the  restless  world  for  once  seemed  asleep.  Disappointed,  and 
^  fearful  of  being  detected  at  her  look-out,  she  descended  again 
to  the  floor  ;  but  often  during  the  anxious  and  uncertain  hours 
which  succeeded  did  she  cautiously  revisit  the  orifice,  and  re- 
new her  faithful  watch. 

It  was  a  fervid  summer  day.  Gradually  the  sun  moved 
toward  the  zenith ;  and  the  party,  so  anxious  during  the  terrors 
of  the  night  for  a  sight  of  his  face,  and  later,  for  the  wasting  of 
his  hours,  now  regarded  his  advance  with  alarm,  and  gladly 
would  have  stayed  him  in  his  career.  It  seemed^  indeed,  as 
though  he  were  coursing  through  the  sky  with  a  double  speed 

17 


386  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 


with  the  determination  to  hurl  them  into  the  midst  of  the  catas- 
trophe which  threatened,  before  its  time.  No  signs  of  a  res- 
cue appeared,  and  it  lacked  but  an  hour  of  noon,  when,  sud- 
denly, the  keen  eye  at  the  roof — that  of  the  faithful  Ruby — 
espied^a  solitary  footman  winding  along  the  rugged  path  which 
led  to  the  fortress  ;  and  she  announced*the  fact  to  the  anxious 
listeners  below. 

**  Who  is  he  like  ?"  inquired  Don  Manuel. 

"His  gait  reminds  me  of  good  Michael,"  replied  Ruby, 
•*  but  be  is  so  much  hidden  by  the  bushes  that  it  is  difficult  to 
make  him  out." 

"  God  grant  that  it  may  be  he !"  said  the  Lady  Viola,  fer- 
vently. "  His  honest  face  would  shame  our  oppressor  into 
better  deeds,  even  though  he  were  able  to  yield  us  no  other 
aid." 

"  It  is  Michael !"  said  Ruby,  with  unguarded  emphasis, 
loud  enough,  though  still  in  a  low  tone,  to  reach  the  ears  of 
the  guard. 

"  Michael,  is  it  ?"  echoed  one  of  Don  Ferdinand's  satellites, 
as,  stepping  into  view,  he  elevated  his  musket  and  drove  the 
maiden  below. 

And  Michael  indeed  it  was,  come  to  spy  out  the  condition 
of  the  land.  He  was  alone,  his  ancient  rifle  on  his  arm  ;  and 
he  proceeded  at  his  usual  leisurely  gait,  humming  a  tune  as 
he  went,  and  now  indifferently  casting  his  eyes  at  the  sun, 
and  again  pausing  to  note  some  trifle  in  his  way.  He,  even 
when  within  a  rod  of  the  gate  of  the  camp,  stopped  and  de- 
liberately dissected  one  of  those  remarkable  stones  which 
Doctor  Oquetos  in  his  devotion  to  science  had  rendered 
familiar  to  every  inmate  of  the  fortress,  and  which  the  learned 
gentleman  often  declared,  while  collecting  the  vast  cabinet  of 
specimens  which  lumbered  his  tent,  were  among  the  geolog- 
ical wonders  of  the  world.  But,  on  arriving  at  that  gate,  the 
veteran  was  denied  admission.     He  expressed  a  natural  Bur- 


A  COTJP-DE-MAIN.  387 


prise,  and  asked  some  questions  ;  but  the  entrance  was  in  the 
keeping  of  the  most  devoted  mii.ions  of  Don  Ferdinand,  and 
he  received  nothing  in  return  but  surly  answers  and  directions 
to  depart,  while  allowed  to  do  so  in  safety.  Johnson,  how- 
ever, seated  himself  on  a  stone,  and  managed  to  keep  up  a 
rambling  conversation/  from  which,  by  the  exercise  of  a  little 
tact,  he  was  shortly  enabled  to  draw  very  accurate  conclusions 
as  to  the  situation  of  affairs  within.  At  length  he  arose, 
loitered,  and  with  still  hesitating  steps  went  away. 

The  general  features  of  that  part  of  the  mountain  on  which 
the  camp  was  situated  are  doubtless  in  the  mind  of  the  reader. 
The  camp  itself,  it  will  be  recollected,  occupied  a  detached 
prominence,  jutting  from  the  mountain's  side.  Below,  the 
ground  stretched  away  in  an  uneven  descent,  here  an  emi- 
nence, and  there  a  hollow  or  craggy  ravine,  until  it  reached 
the  meadows  bordering  on  the  Susquehanna.  Here  and  there 
were  scattering  trees  ;  but  the  vegetation  was  principally  of  a 
more  dwarfish  description,  consisting  of  bushes,  five  or  six 
feet  high,  interspersed  with  clumps  of  a  somewhat  larger 
growth.  Of  these  the  laurel  was  by  far  the  most  abundant, 
frequently  spreading  into  considerable  fields.  But  large 
portions  of  the  hillside  were  comparatively  bare,  being 
fringed,  as  it  were,  merely  with  a  short  beard  of  the  huckle- 
berry, wild  grass,  and  the  like.  Above,  the  mountain  wa? 
still  more  rough  and  precipitous,  presenting  to  the  beholdei 
fro'm  below,  patches  of  brown  earth,  alternating  with  ledges 
of  gray  rock,-  and  beetling  cliffs,  and  deep  and  somber  chasms. 

The  mine,  so  called,  was  in  the  side  of  the  hill  opposite  the 
camp,  and  nearly  on  a  level  with  it.  In  that  direction  the 
gate  of  the  fortress  opened.  As  the  work  of  excavating  had 
progressed,  the  ravine  running  between  the  mine  and  the 
camp  had  been  gradually  filled  with  earth  and  stone,  until  a 
continuous  causeway  had  been  formed  from  the  gate  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave.     The  somewhat  extensive  excavation  had 


388  CAMP  FIEES  OF  THE  BED  MEN. 

also  produced  other  changes  worthy  of  notice.  The  superin- 
cumbent mass  had  felt  the  loss  of  a  secure  foundation  whereon 
to  repose,  and  several  alarming,  but  not  very  important  slides 
of  earth  and  slate  from  above,  from  time  to  time  had  occurred. 
The  last  of  these  proved  by  far  the  most  serious.  It  extended 
higher  up  than  any  of  its  pred6cessors,  and,  indeed,  quite  to 
the  base  of  a  large  oval  surface  rock,  which,  partially  under- 
mined, at  once  assumed  a  very  threatening  aspect  above  their 
heads. 

To  this  pressing  danger  immediate  attention  had  been 
given.  The  rock,  on  examination,  was  found  to  be  as  com- 
pletely detached  from  every  thing  else  as  though  it  had  been 
dropped,  like  an  immense  ball,  from  the  sky.  It  was  also 
found,  since  the  disturbing  of  its  foundation,  to  rest  nearly  on 
a  balance,  and  accordingly  levers  were  speedily  arranged  for 
the  purpose  of  starting  it  in  its  descent.  But  at  this  point  a 
solemn  pause  ensued.  Unless  means  could  be  devised  to  turn 
it  aside  from  its  legitimate  course,  it  must  inevitably  find  a 
resting-place  in  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  closing  it  far  more 
effectually  than  would  a  door  of  triple  steel.  But  here  agam, 
all  interest  in  the  rock,  and  even  in  the  mine  itself,  had  been 
brought  to  a  sudden  conclusion  by  the  occurrence  of  the  out- 
break between  the  Spanish  leaders  ;  and  the  stone,  with  its 
appended  levers,  still  maintained  its  threatening  position,  at 
an  altitude  of  some  fifty  feet  above  the  mine. 


^ajftu  iGxiu-niut. 


DOCTOR   OQUETOS   EXALTED.     A    NOONDAY   ESCALADE.     THE   PRIZE    TO    THK 
VICTOR. 


"  Death  of  thy  soul !  those  linen  cheeks  of  thine 
Are  counselors  to  fear." 


AS  Michael  Johnson  disappeared  from  the  camp,  there  was 
a  smothered  expression  of  regret  on  the  part  of  the  loiter- 
ers around  the  outworks  at  thus  parting  from  the  old  man ; 
for  however  it  might  be  with  him  who  now  bore  sway  in  the 
fortress,  it  was  certain  that  the  veteran  had  always  been  a 
good  friend  to  them,  and  they  could  owe  him  no  ill-will. 

"  I  wonder  where  he  will  go  ?"  said  one,  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  returned  another.  "  Perhaps  among  the 
Mohawk  Indians,  with  whom,  I  have  heard  him  say,  he  used 
to  live." 

"  Like  enough,"  continued  the  first  speaker.  "  Perhaps  he 
has  no  other  home.  Who  could  have  thought  that  the  gates 
would  ever  be  shut  against  Mike,  good  Mike.  I  always  feel 
better  and  more  like  a  man  when  he  is  about.  It  is  a  bad 
sign,     I  wish  I  knew  how  this  day  would  end." 

"Whist!"  said  the  other.  "  Be  a  little  careful,  man.  It  is 
our  business  to  obey  orders,  and  let  others  talk,  and  bear  the 
blame,  too,  if  there  be  any  wrong  done." 

"  Can  that  be  ?"  said  the  first.  "  I  have  heard  Father  An- 
tonio say,  more  than  once,  that  those  who  commit  crimes  will 
have  to  answer  for  them,  and  I  expect  that  you  and  I  will 


390  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEHT. 

have  to  answer  for  our  share  in  last  night's  work,  as  well  as 
for  what  we  may  do  to-day." 

"Poh!  poh!  man,"  returned  the  other.  "You  talk  like  a 
child.  If  you  feel  like  that,  you  had  better  back  out.  Don 
Ferdinand  would  only  cut  off  both  your  ears,  if  he  were  to 
know  of  your  preaching  in  this  way." 

"  Back  out !"  echoed  the  conscientious  man.  "  I  am  the  last 
one  for  that,  as  you  very  well  know.  I  was  only  regretting 
that  we  were  obliged  to  treat  our  old  friend  Mike  so  shabbily  ; 
and  I  can  not  but  feel  a  little  troubled  that  we  have  been 
forced,  in  self-defense,  to  shut  up  our  master,  Don  Manuel, 
and  the  Lady  Viola,  and  Father  Antonio,  and — " 

"  Stop !"  said  the  other,  imperatively,  "  or  I  will  report  you. 
Do  you  not  know  that  you  are  talking  treason,  man  ?  Trea- 
son, sir,  is  a  great  crime  ;  far  greater  than  merely  shutting 
one's  master  up  in  his  quarters  for  a  day  or  two,  in  self- 
defense,  as  you  say.  We  do  as  Don  Ferdinand  tells  us,  and 
he  pays  us  for  it,  does  he  not?  Answer  me  that.  Well, 
what  more  have  we  to  say  about  it  ?  It  is  his  business,  not 
ours." 

The  parties,  during  this  conversation,  were  standing  near 
the  palisades,  at  a  point  which  looked  below,  and  to  the  east 
of  the  encampment.  At  this  juncture  the  attention  of  the  last 
speaker  was  attracted  by  a  motion  of  the  bushes  nigh  by  on 
the  .hillside,  and  he  proceeded  to  express  his  opinion  that  a 
deer  had  ventured  into  the  close  proximity  of  the  fortress,  and 
regretted  that  his  musket  was  not  at  hand,  that  he  might  try 
him  with  a  shot, 

"  But,"  said  the  other,  "  while  we  have  been  talking  here,  I 
have  seen  a  maneuver  with  the  bushes  which  I  am  certain 
never  was  got  up  by  the  deer.  •  But  do  not  let  me  detain  you. 
]  suppose  you  want  to  report  me  to  Don  Ferdinand?" 

"  Nonsense,  man  !     What  was  it  you  saw  ?" 

**  You  perceive  that  ravine  below,  yonder.     It  is  a  water- 


A  NOONDAY  ESCALADE.  391 

course  when  it  rains  and  the  torrents  are  pouring^own  the 
mountain ;  and,  as  you  see,  is  as  bare  of  vegetation  as  the 
back  of  my  hand.  Not  long  since  there  was  a  row  of  bush«s 
strung  across  it,  like  a  file  of  men  ;  and  I  watched  it,  while 
you  were  so  busy  lecturing  me,  till  the  last  bush  marched  up 
the  bank  on  this  side,  and  disappeared  among  the  laurel." 

"  Well,  now,  that  is  very  strange,"  replied  the  listener  to  this 
marvel.  "  No  one  ever  saw  the  like  in  old  Spain,  and  I  guess, 
my  man,  you  are  joking  ?" 

At  this  point  the  learned  Doctor  Oquetos,  who,  as  a  gentle- 
man of  the  lancet  rather  than  the  sword,  whose  professional 
services  were  liable  to  be  needed  at  any  moment,  had,  after  a 
few  hours'  durance,  been  set  at  liberty  by  Don  Ferdinand, 
made  his  appearance,  and  was  at  once  appealed  to  in  ex- 
planation of  the  walking  bushes.  The  doctor  applied  his 
forefinger  to  the  region  of  his  reflective  organs,  and  maintained 
a  dignified  silence  for  the  space  of  half  a  minute.  He  then 
broke  forth  in  a  sort  of  rhapsody : 

"  O  that  I  might  have  seen  it,  I  myself !  it  were  a  wonder 
well  worth  the  reporting,  for  history  and  science  do  record  a 
like  event  but  once,  when  Birnam  wood  walked  up  to  Dun- 
sinane.  America  !  thou  land  of  many  marvels,  of  giant  trees 
and  promenading  bushes,  thou  shalt  hereafter  quite  surprise 
the  world,  when  thou  canst  show  thyself;  and  science,  goddess 
of  my  fond  devotion,  shall  hang  upon  thy  brow  her  laurel — 
crimson — golden — myrtle — cap." 

While  the  doctor  was  thus  struggling  to  renew  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Shakspeare,  and  also  to  discover  the  proper  adjective 
and  noun  wherewith  to  close  his  period,  his  speech  was  sud 
denly  cut  short  by  sounds  as  unexpected  as  they  were  startling 
First  came  a  shot  from  a  sentinel,  and  then  the  terrible  war- 
whoop  of  the  savages  ;  and  ere  the  reverberations  of  the  cry 
had  died  away,  it  was  known  that  the  Indians  in  force  were 
upon  them.     They  were  seen  quitting  their  covers,  the  patches 


392  CAMP  FIRES  OF  TITE  RED   MEN. 

of  laurel  and  other  bushes  which  had  concealed  their  ap- 
proach, and  like  so  many  beasts  of  prey,  furious  with  hunger, 
were  rushing  up  the  bank  to  the  attack  of  the  fortress. 

To  the  camp  this  daring  assault  at  broad  noon  was  a  per- 
fect surprise.  There  were  men  enough  and  arms  enough,  in 
connection  with  its  comparatively  strong  outworks,  its  mound, 
its  palisades  and  ditch,  for  its  defense,  even  against  a  more 
powerful  force  than  now  threatened  it ;  but  at  this  hour  of  the 
day  the  men  were  scattered  hither  and  thither,  some  playing  at 
quoits  or  other  games,  some  telling  stories  to  a  crowd  of  gap- 
ing listeners,  and  some  asleep,  their  weapons  in  one  place  and  . 
they  in  another;  and  unfortunately  for  them,  their  experience 
in  Indian  warfare,  at  an  emergency  like  this,  was  well  calcu- 
lated to  add  to  their  dismay. 

Don  Ferdinand,  at  the  time  of  the  alarm,  was  quietly  re- 
clining on  his  couch,  and  occasionally  sipping  a  little  wine,  in 
order  to  brace  his  nerves  for  the  anticipated  grand  climacteric 
of  the  coming  noon.  But  quite  a  different  scene  awaited  him 
from  that  on  which  his  fancy  had  been  reveling.  As  the  well- 
known  cry  struck  his  ear  he  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  hurling 
the  half-emptied  bottle  at  the  head  of  an  attendant,  rushed  out 
of  doors. 

For  a  time  the  voice  of  Don  Ferdinand  rung  in  trumpet 
tones,  high  and  clear  through  the  camp.  He  rallied  his  men ; 
he  issued  his  orders  promptly ;  he  infused  courage  into  them 
by  the  energy  of  his  tones  and  gestures  ;  and,  better  than  all, 
'he  placed  himself  at  their  head,  and  led  them  to  the  wall. 
But  as  he  approached  the  point  of  attack,  he  recognized  a 
voice  among  the  assailants  which  sent  more  terror  to  his  heart 
than  all  the  yells  of  the  savages.  It  was  the  voice  of  Charles 
Warwick,  and  mingling,  with  it  were  the  cool  inspiring  tones 
of  Michael  Johnson. 

The  chevalier  recoiled.  He  remained  on  the  ground  only 
long  enough  to  issue  some  general  directions,  when  he  turned 


A  NOONDAY  ESOALADK  393 

again  toward  the  center  of  the  camp.  The  day  he  already- 
considered  lost,  and  with  that  conviction  came  a  resolve  as 
desperate  as  himself.  He  ordered  the  priest  Antonio  to  be 
summoned,  and  with  a  few  attendants  proceeded  directly  to 
the  quarters  of  Don  Manuel.  He  unfastened  the  door,  but 
found  it  barred  within  by  the  sword  of  the  Spaniard.  He 
directed  him  to  be  seized.  His  menials  attempted  to  obey, 
but  the  first  one  that  approached  fell  a  victim  to  the  enraged 
father's  sword.  Furious,  despairing,  Don  Ferdinand  drew  a 
pistol  and  fired.  Don  Manuel  fell,  and  the  Lady  Viola,  with 
a  wild  shriek,  tottered  forward  and  threw  herself  on  his  pros- 
trate body. 

Father  Antonio  had  now  arrived.  There  was  no  longer 
any  resistance  to  be  feared,  except  from  Ruby  O'Brady ;  and 
she,  poor  girl,  horror-struck  at  the  scene  before  her,  had  flown 
to  raise  her  mistress  in  her  arms,  and  was  easily  secured. 
The  chevalier  entered  the  lodge.  Ordering  one  of  his  minions 
to  support  the  half  fainting  Viola,  he  took  her  white  hand  in 
his,  and  bade  the  priest  perform  the  marriage  ceremony. 

Father  Antonio  was  bewildered  with  affright. 

"  Reflect,  my  son,  on  what  you  are  doing,"  he  stammered 
out. 

"  I  have  reflected,"  said  Don  Ferdinand.  "  This  is  the  set 
time,  and  it  shall  not  pass." 

*'  But  her  father  is  dying,"  objected  the  priest. 

"Were  the  whole  world  dying,"  exclaimed  the  chevalier, 
fiercely,  "  it  should  not  stop  me.  She  is  my  wife  already,  as 
you  very  well  know,  and  it  now  needs  but  a  word,  a  form, 
that  the  fact  may  have  a  convenient  voucher.     Go  on !" 

"  I  will  not,"  replied  Father  Antonio,  firmly.  "  The  curse 
of  Heaven  light  on  us  both  if  I  do." 

Don  Ferdinand  trembled  with  passion.  He  saw  himself 
hedged  in  at  every  turn,  his  designs  one  by  one  frustrated, 
and  more  than  all,  the  Lady  Viola,  the  prize  for  which  he 

17* 


394  CAMP  fihes  of  tee  red  men. 

had  sacrificed  so  much,  slipping  from  his  fingers  forever. 
But  there  was  little  time  for  deliberation.  The  cries  without 
at  the  brtast- works  were  growing  louder  and  louder,  and  he 
perceived  that  they  were  largely  made  up  of  shouts  of  cheer 
and  triumph  from  his  foes.  There  was  only  one  way  in  which 
he  could  conclude  the  argument  at  all  to  liis  satisfaction  with 
the  stubborn  priest,  and  springing  upon  him  he  plunged  a 
poniard  in  his  heart.  Shaking  the  reeking  blade  in  the  air, 
he  screamed  in  the  ears  of  his  horrified  menials  : 

"  Hinds !  caitiffs !  gape  not  at  me !  Thus  Cassino  punishes 
the  disobedient !" 

He  gave  some  hasty  orders.  He  went  out  himself  to  note 
the  progress  of  the  battle,  and  the  exact  present  posture  of 
affairs,  and  smiled  with  a  hellish  malignity  as  he  ascertained 
that  the  passage  to  the  gate  and  the  mine  remained  un- 
obstructed. Returning,  he  gazed  for  an  instant  on  the  inani- 
mate form  of  the  Lady  Viola  ;  but  there  was  no  compunctious 
relenting  in  his  looks.  His  face  was  as  pale  as  that  of  the 
dead  priest  at  his  feet.  His  eyes  glared  like  a  serpent's  : 
but  he  was  calm — calmer  to  appearance  than  he  had  been 
at  any  period  for  days.  Taking  the  Lady  Viola  in  his 
arms,  he  gathered  his  followers  around  him  in  a  circle  and 
passed  out  of  the  lodge.  Her  light  form  lay  across  his 
shoulder,  and  her  long,  black  hair  hung  down  his  back  and 
waved  behind  him  in  the  wind  as  he  rushed  forward  at  a 
headlong  speed  toward  the  gate,  and  through  it  disappeared 
from  the  camp. 

The  point  where  Johnson  and  his  allies  had  made  their 
assault  was  quite  to  the  east  of  the  one  at  which  Don  Ferdi- 
nand accomplished  his  exit.  It  had  been  selected  solely  for 
the  reason  that  it  lay  in  the  direction  of  their  approach,  and 
was  soonest  reached  after  quitting  the  cover  of  the  bushes. 
Had  it  not  been  /or  the  delay  in  bridging  the  ditch,  the  works 
would  have  been  carried  before  the  Spaniards  were  prepared 


A  NOONDA  r  ESCALADE.  395 


to  resist.  As  it  was,  Warwick,  Johnson,  and  the  Mohawk, 
with  a  score  of  their  red  followers  at  their  heels,  were  on  the 
wall  as  soon  as  its  defenders.  A  hand-to-hand  conflict  en- 
sued, which  had  been  too  suddenly  precipitated,  and  was  too 
closely  pressed  for  the  exercise  of  firearms.  Besides,  John- 
son was  anxious  to  avoid  bloodshed,  and  what  was  better,  had 
succeeded  in  impressing  his  wishes,  in  this  particular,  fully  on 
his  associates ;  and  furthermore,  it  so  turned  out,  that  a  very 
small  part  only  of  the  guns  of  the  Spaniards  were  loaded.  A 
few  straggling  shots,  from  time  to  time,  were  exchanged,  but 
the  conflict  was  face  to  face  over  the  pickets.  The  mastery 
of  these,  for  some  minutes,  was  hotly  contested.  At  length 
breaches  were  eflected  ;  the  assailants  poured  through  ;  their 
leader  was  not  present  to  encourage  them,  and  the  Spaniards 
slowly  fell  back. 

Johnson  and  his  allies  having  thus  obtained  a  firm  foot7 
hold  within  the  fortress,  demanded  its  surrender.  To  this 
no  reply  was  returned.  The  Spaniards  continued  to  retreat 
in  the  direction  of  the  gate,  and  finally,  quickening  their 
pace,  rushed  through  in  a  body,  and  closed  and  barred  it  after 
them. 

At  this  moment,  when  the  victory  seemed  complete,  and  the 
triumphant  shouts  of  the  conquerors  shook  the  air,  the  young 
Indian,  Alwyn,  with  a  look  of  dismay,  directed  the  attention 
of  Warwick  out  upon  the  causeway.  The  eye  of  the  'Ameri- 
can was  just  in  time  to  take  in  the  receding  figure  of  Don 
Ferdinand,  as,  with  the  body  of  the  Lady  Viola  on  his  back, 
he  disappeared  within  the  mine.  Uttering  a  cry  of  anguish, 
Warwick  pressed  forward  to  the  gate.  But  its  bolts  and 
chains  resisted  his  eflbrts.  Calling  for  an  axe,  with  repeated 
blows,  driven  home  with  all  the  energy  of  desperation,  he 
hewed  into  the  massive  fabric,  when  Johnson,  coming  up  with 
a  heavy  beam  of  wood,  directed  by  the  united  strength  of  a 
score  of  his  men,  with  a  stroke  and  a  crash  swept  the  impedi- 


396  CAMP  FIRES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

merit  from  thsir  path,  and  Warwick,  the  White  Eagle,  and  the 
Mohawk,  their  exulting  followers  pressing  close  behind, 
passed  out  abreast  upon  the  narrow  way,  which  seemed  des- 
tined to  be  the  scene  of  a  still  final  struggle. 

Don  Ferdinand,  meanwhile,  having  deposited  his  uncon- 
scious burden  in  the  mine,  like  an  angry  wolf  from  his  cave, 
came  forth  to  the  defense.  He  had  now  lost  all  motive  but 
revenge.  No  longer  careful  of  himself,  he  rallied  his  men,  and 
with  his  sword  in  one  hand  and  a  pistol  in  the  other  placed 
himself  at  their  head.  The  parties  met  midway  on  the  ele- 
vated path.  As  they  approached  each  other,  Warwick  sprung 
ahead  of  his  associates,  and  requested  them  to  leave  the 
wretch  to  him.  Johnson  and  the  Mohawk  accordingly  came 
to  a  halt,  and  checked  the  advance  of  their  forces  ;  and  the 
movement,  singularly  enough,  was  understood  and  followed  on 
the  part  of  the  Spaniards,  leaving  a  clear  field  in  the  center 
to  the  combatants.  While  yet  several  paces  intervened  be- 
tween the  two,  Don  Ferdinand  leveled  his  pistol  and  snapped 
it.  But  the  instrument  contained  no  leaden  death  within  its 
walls  ;  its  contents  had  been  lodged  in  the  bosom  of  Don 
Manuel  Torrillo,  his  oldest  and  best  friend,  and  one  who  had 
been  true  to  him  much  longer  than  he  had  remained  true  to 
himself.  Throwing  the  weapon  madly  from  him,  with  his 
sword  he  closed  in  with  bis  foe. 

Once  more  Charles  Warwick  and  Don  Ferdinand  de 
Cassino  stood  hand  to  hand  and  breast  to  breast,  rivals  in 
love,  but  antipodes  in  all  else.  Neither  spoke,  and  an  equal 
fury  and  determination  seemed  to  animate  them.  *  The  terrible 
passions  which  consumed  the  Spaniard,  the  sting  of  fancied 
injuries,  of  disappointed  love,  and  jealousy,  and  black  revenge, 
were  printed  on  his  face  like  clouds  and  flashes  on  a  warring 
sky.  Even  the  noble  Warwick,  in  his  desperate  strait,  ap- 
peared more  like  a  demon  than  a  man  ;  and  as  the  eyes  of  the 
twain  shot  forth  their  angry  streams,  it  seemed  as  though  each 


A  NOONDA  Y  ESCALADE.  397 

'glance  was  armed  with  arrows.  The  play  of  weapons  which 
succeeded  was  marked  with  consummate  activity  and  skill. 
Don  Ferdinand,  having  thrown  every  thing  on  this  last  stake, 
remained  collected ;  and  Warwick,  conscious  that  this  was 
the  very  pivot  of  his  life,  as  well  as  that  of  another,  even 
dearer  than  himself,  suppressed  his  swelling  heart  and  kept 
it  pent  within.  Both  dealt  their  rapid  blows  with  right  good 
will,  and  their  burnished  brands,  as  they  circled  in  the  air, 
gleamed  like  lambent  tongues  of  fire.  But  stroke  and  thrust 
and  feint  continued  to  be  parried ;  and  the  eager  spectators — 
the  Indian  and  the  white — as  they  looked  on  with  staring  eyes, 
and  hair  stirred  with  strange  life,  seemed  stiffening  in  their 
tracks. 

Content  was  Michael  Johnson  to  rest  the  fate  of  the  day 
and  the  fortunes  of  the  Lady  Viola  on  the  good  cause  and  the 
good  sword  of  his  son.  But  while  the  combat  still  hung  in 
suspense,  and  every  thought  and  sense  were  centered  there, 
the  attention  of  the  veteran  was  attracted  away  to  the  project- 
ing rock  which  overhung  the  mine.  He  discovered  men 
around  it  handling  the  levers,  and  in  a  moment  the  hellish 
purpose  of  Don  Ferdinand,  to  destroy  the  Lady  Viola  if  he 
could  not  save  her  to  himself,  flashed  on  his  mind.  Dropping 
his  weapons  where  he  stood,  he  sprung  past  the  combatants 
and  threw  himself  into  the  ranks  of  the  Spaniards.  Taken 
by  surprise,  and  seeing  him  unarmed,  and  more  than  all,  ac- 
customed to  respect  him,  they  gave  way  and  suffered  him  to 
pass  on  unmolested. 

This  sudden  movement  of  Johnson  by  no  means  escaped 
the  notice  of  Warwick,  but  he  had  little  time  to  give  it  thought. 
With  the  fact  itself  came  the  impression  that  it  was  in  some 
manner  connected  with  the  safety  of  the  Lady  Viola,  but  how 
he  could  not  stop  to  guess.  Happily  for  him,  no  suspicion  of 
the  horrible  truth  at  the  moment  gained  access  to  his  mind. 
With  Don  Ferdinand   it  was   otherwise.     As  the  old  man 


398  CAMP  FIBES  OF  THE  RED  MEN. 

strode  by  him,  like  a  winged  colossus,  he  readily  divined  his 
object,  and  he  perceived  that  his  own  sun  was  nigh  to  the 
wave,  and  about  to  set  in  a  vast  and  unknown  ocean.  He 
rallied  his  flagging  powers.  He  struck  with  the  rapidity  of 
light,  and  with  the  force,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  of  the  resistless 
lightning ;  but  in  vain.  Warwick  was  a  tower  he  could  not 
move  ;  and  as  the  black  wing  of  despair  flapped  over  his  heart 
and  brain,  covering  his  horizon  with  shadows,  in  utter  hope- 
lessness he  waved  his  hand.  The  abstraction,  though  but 
momentary,  was  fatal  to  his  safety.  The  sword-arm  lost  its 
supremacy  in  the  action  of  the  other,  and  he  received  the  point 
of  his  adversary's  weapon  in  his  bosom.  The  quivering  steel 
staid  not  in  its  career  until  the  hilt  smote  against  his  chest 
with  a  heavy,  dull  sound.  The  silver  chord  of  life  was  cut  m 
twain,  and  he  fell  dead. 

But  the  terrible  signal,  indicated  by  the  motion  of  his  hand, 
while  yet  the  soul  was  in  him,  was  seen  and  understood.  His 
obedient  slaves  threw  themselves  on  the  levers.  The  massive 
stone  trembled,  rocked,  reeled  heavily  forward,  and  fell 
thundering  down  with  the  force  of  an  avalanche.  But  while 
it  yet  hung  balanced,  as  on  a  pivot,  Michael  Johnson,  with 
the  Lady  Viola  in  his  arms,  was  discovered  in  the  mouth  of 
the  mine.  He  was  well  aware  of  his  danger.  The  grating, 
jarring  death  above  him  had  sufficiently  warned  him  of  that, 
and  he  was  stretching  every  nerve,  and  taxing  every  power, 
and  calling  to  his  God  that  he  might  escape  it;  and  more  for 
the  lily  burden  that  he  bore  than  for  himself.  But  the 
mighty  missive  delayed  not.  It  came,  enveloped  in  a  cloud 
of  dust,  and  struck,  with  a  report  like  a  piece  of  ordnance, 
and  a  shock  which  made  the  vast  hill  tremble.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  fate  of  Johnson  and  Viola  was  unknown.  Warwick 
sprung  forward,  and  passed  unquestioned  and  unnoticed 
through  the  midst  of  the  confounded  Spaniards.  He  pene- 
trated the  cloud  of  smoke  ;  he  shouted  ;  and  with  a  cry  of  joy 


A  NOOKDAY  ESCALADE.  399 


received  from  the  hands  of  his  father  the  Lady  Viola,  pale 
and  trembling  like  a  frightened  bird,  but  breathing  and  un- 
harmed ;  and,  as  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart,  he  told  her  that 
her  troubles  were  ended,  and  promised  her  a  safe  and  happy 
shelter  in  his  bosom  forever. 


COKCIiUSION. 

Farewell !  a  ■word  that  must  be,  and  hath  been— 
A  word  which  makes  us  linger— yet— farewell  I" 

THE  woof  whereof  the  web  of  this  history  hath  been 
woven  is  at  an  end;  the  shuttle  creaks  and  stops  as  it 
attempts  to  play  ;  the  fates  stand  ready  with  their  shears,  and 
why  delay  to  cut  it  from  the  loom  ?  Shall  we  detain  our 
audience  by  the  sleeve  while  we  proceed  to  show  with  what 
prolixity  the  flying  threads  might  be  knotted  into  festoons  of 
fringed  and  tasseled  patch-work  at  the  end  ?  No.  The 
catastrophe  is  over,  the  spell  is  broken,  and  what  boots  it  to 
describe,  in  tedious  and  laboring  sentences,  the  scarcely  more 
tedious  return  of  the  party  to  New  York  ;  how  Mistress  War- 
wick rejoiced  on  again  embracing  her  son ;  how  Warwick 
and  the  Lady  Viola  were  shortly  married,  the  gallant  Major 
Yan  Quirk  and  Amelia  Clinton,  soon  to  become  Mrs.  Gates, 
oflSiciating  as  bridesman  and  bridesmaid  on  the  occasion  ;  how 
Michael  Johnson  lived  for  many  years,  in  summer  the  W^hite 
Eagle  among  the  Mohawks,  in  winter  the  veteran  hunter  with 
his  son,  stealing  the  hearts  of  his  grandchildren,  and  the 
esteem  even  of  the  most  elevated  and  aristocratic  circles  of 
the  city ;  how  Don  Manuel  Torrillo  recovered  of  his  wound, 
and  regained  his  estates  both  in  Mexico  and  Spain ;  how 
Doctor  Oquetos  returned  to  his  native  land,  where  his  valu- 
able contributions  to  the  cause  of  science — his  cabinet  of 
American  stones,  and  several  learned  essays  on  scientific 
topics  connected  with  the  New  World — were  rewarded  with 


coiroLusioir  401 


the  chair  of  Geology  in  the  University  of  Salamanca ;  how 
the  Indian,  Alwyn,  received  every  kindness  and  a  liberal  edu- 
cation at  the  hands  of  his  white  brother,  but,  like  a  true 
Indian,  ultimately  returned  to  the  haunts  and  habits  of  his 
fathers,  vv^here  through  every  vicissitude  of  his  checkered 
career  he  managed  to  preserve,  and  wore  in  his  bosom  as  an 
amulet,  a  raven  lock  of  hair  which  that  more  fortunate  brother, 
who  possessed  the  original  to  whom  it  once  belonged,  at  his 
special  request  had  committed  to  his  keeping ;  how  the 
Amazonian  maiden.  Ruby  O'Brady,  crowned  the  aspirations 
of  the  faithful  Solyman  with  her  hand  ;  and  how  Major  Van 
Quirk  lived  and  died  a  bachelor ;  and  how,  at  his  demise, 
which  took  place  near  half  a  century  later,  an  unexpected 
difficulty  occurred  in  the  preparation  of  his  obituary,  and  how 
the  place  where  his  age  should  have  been  was  unavoidably 
filled  with  a  dash. 

Nevertheless,  as  the  author  closes  his  labors,  and  commits 
the  fictitious  personages,  who  have  moved  so  long  in  these 
pages  at  his  command,  into  the  hands  of  his  readers,  he 
would  not  disguise  that  he  feels  for  them  something  of  the 
anxiety  of  a  tender  parent  for  his  off*spring  when  he  sends 
them  forth  to  seek  their  fortune  in  the  world.  He  would  fain 
have  the  children  of  his  fancy  well  received,  and  would  be 
gratified  to  learn  that  their  characters  were  considered  well 
formed  and  their  manners  respectable.  Still,  he  is  aware  that 
youth,  as  they  make  their  advent  on  the  stage  of  action,  must 
be  left,  in  the  main,  to  secure  their  own  position  by  a  proper 
exhibition  of  their  quality  and  parts,  and  that  it  would  not  become 
him,  on  the  present  occasion,  to  do  more  than  to  commend  the 
objects  of  his  solicitude  to  that  common  courtesy  and  forbear- 
ance which  are  freely  extended  to  all.  So,  with  a  simple  ex- 
pression of  the  wish,  that  the  acquaintance  may  prove  agreeable, 
he  sends  them  forth  with  the  paternal  blessing  to  find  or 
make  a  way  on  the  uncertain  Sea  of  Life. 


J.    0.    DERBY  S   PUBLICATIONtJ. 


THE    MORNINQ    STARS    OF    THE    NEW 
'  WORLD. 

BY  n.  F.  PARKER. 

1  elegant  12ino.  volume,  over  400  pages,  six  Illustrations.    Price  $1  25. 

Contents  : — Columbus — Vespucius — De  Soto^Raleigh — Hudson — Smith 
—Standish— Arabella  Stuart— Elliott  and  Penn. 

*'  An  unpretending  work,  yet  a  valuable  one.  The  authoress  most  have  entered  upoa 
her  task  with  hearty  enthusiasm,  as,  while  adhering  strictly  to  the  simplest  truth,  sho 
^  has  thrown  around  her  portraits  a  new  charm,  and  given  to  them  a  refreshing  novelty 
of  aspect.  A  gallery  of  striking  portraits  worthy  of  preservation  and  a  galaxy  of  stars 
whose  morning  light  must  not  be  obscured  ia  the  noon-tide  brilliancy  of  a  successful 
present.  Ir.  just  such  a  form  as  this  should  they  lie  on  our  book-tables,  reminders  of  the 
past,  shorn  of  the  technicalities  of  the  history,  and  presented  in  strong  relief.  The  cam« 
of  the  authoress  is  one  almost  unknown ;  but  she  deserves  the  thanks  of  the  public  for 
her  well  written  book  in  which  she  has  given  a  convenient  medium  of  communication  with 
days  of  long  ago — days  that  never  should  be  forgotton  even  by  the  busy,  bustling  world 
that  cannot  stop  to  go  back  even  to  the  days  of  their  own  forefathers.  The  book  proves 
Itself  a  very  entertaining  one  for  the  young,  who  declare  themselves  unable  to  leave  its 
fascinating  pages."—  Worceiter  Palladium. 

"  A  more  appropriate  name  could  not  have  been  given  to  a  book  which  contains  all 
that  is  interesting  in  the  lives  of  the  master  spirits  to  whom  the  world  may  be  said  to  owe, 
firstly  the  discovery  of  this  great  continent ;  and  secondly,  the  establishment  upon  it,  of 
European  colonies.  In  no  other  single  work,  of  whose  existence  we  are  aware,  are  thers 
to  be  found  so  many  sketches  of  the  discoverers  and  first  settlers  of  the  principal  parts 
of  the  new  world,  which  are  at  once  so  concise  and  comprehensive,  as  those  given  in  the 
Morning  Stars.'    They  are  truly  mviUfwin  in  parvo."—PhiladelpMa  Jfewa. 

**  The  authoress  has  fashioned  her  materials  in  a  very  winning  garb,  and  with  a  spirit 
and  feeling  rarely  kindled  in  preparing  succint  biographies,  imparts  her  glowing  appre* 
ciatlon  of  their  subject  to  the  reader.  We  hope  this  volume,  while  in  itself  it  will  be 
valuable  to  the  young,  will  lead  them  to  more  extended  historical  reading,  and  especially 
of  that  which  pertains  to  our  colonial  life,  and  to  our  own  country.  It  is  well  that  they 
should  be  reminded  of  the  coafiicts  and  sacrifices  which  purchased  their  present  luxttrl< 
ous  immunities.  They  cannot  begin  better  than  with  this  charming  volume,  which  they 
will  not  leave  unfinished."— ^ete  Bedford  Mercury. 

*'  This  book  is  alike  novel,  and  fortunate  in  its  title  and  its  character.  It  contains  very 
satisfactory  sketches  of  ten  of  the  great  spirits  the  history  of  whose  lives  blends  itselX 
most  intimately  with  the  earliest  history  of  our  country.  It  was  a  beautiful  thought ;  and 
it  is  carried  out  in  a  manner  that  can  hardly  fail  to  secure  to  the  work  many  delighted 
readers.'*— ^i6a»y  Argui. 

"  The  book  has  all  the  charm  of  romance,  and  the  value  of  genuine  history.    It  is 
Irritten  with  spirit  and  vigor,  and  at  the  same  time  with  precision  and  taste.    The  grouping 
^    together  of  such  m»n  briugs  the  reader  iuto  the  best  of  company."— ^tica  Herald.  0 


J.  c.  derby's  publications. 


"Bell's  sketches  are  instinct  with  life,  they  sparkle  with  brilliants,  are  gei  ■ 
med  with  wit,  and  address  themselves  to  almost  every  thoti  of  the  huim-j 
heart." — Louisville  (Ky.)  Bulletin. 


BEl^L    SMITH    ABROAD. 

A.  Handsome  12mo.  volume.    Price  $1  00.    With  Illustrations  by  teialy, 
Walcutt,  and  Overarche. 

*♦  The  readers  of  the  Louisville  Journal  need  no  introduction  from  us  to  Beli  Bmitb> 
Her  own  brilliant  pen,  and  her  own  sparkling,  witching  and  delightful  style  have  so  often 
graced  the  columns  of  this  paper,  and  have  made  so  many  friends  and  admirers  for  her, 
that  we  need  say  but  little  toward  creating  a  demand  for  this  charming  volume.  But 
Boroe  tribute  is  nevertheless  due  to  Bell  Smith  for  the  real  pleasure  she  has  imparted  in 
every  chapter  of  her  book,  and  that  tribute  we  cheerfully  pay.  Her  admirable  powert 
peem  so  much  at  home  in  every  variety  and  phase  of  life,  that  she  touches  no  subject 
''*ttiout  making  it  sparkle  with  the  lights  of  her  genius." — Louisville  Journal. 

'  She  is  ever  piquant  in  her  remarks,  and  keen  from  observation ;  and  the  result  it 
iAat  her  '  Abroad'  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  collections  of  incident  and  comment,  fun 
»nd  pathos,  seriousness  and  gossip,  which  has  ever  fallen  under  our  notice." — Boston 
Evening  Traveller. 

"  It  is  dashing  and  vigorous  without  coarseness — animated  with  a  genial  humor — 
showing  acute  and  delicate  perceptions — and  sustained  by  a  bracing  infusion  of  common 
sense."— JV:  Y.  THbv/ne 

♦•There  are  many  delicate  strokes,  and  not  a  little  of  that  vivacity  of  description 
which  entertains.  The  author  shows  her  best  side  when  matters  of  home-feeling  and 
affection  engage  her  pen." — N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"  History,  art  and  personal  narrative  are  alike  imprinted  in  your  memory  by  the  asso- 
ciations of  anecdote,  merry  and  grave,  and  you  feel  that  you  are  listening  to  the  magical 
voice  of '  Bell  Smith'  at  honi«  Such  volumes  enrich  and  honor  American  literature.** — 
PMladeVphia  Merchant. 

"  This  is  a  capital  book  ;  full  of  life,  spirit,  vivacity  and  information— thoroughly  lady- 
like, and  telling  precisely  what  everybody  wants  to  hear,  so  far  as  the  author  knows.** — 
Salem  Gazette. 

"  Spirited  and  artistic !  Bell  Smith  sparkles,  and  dashes  on,  amusing  and  interesting 
A  capital  book  for  a  leisure  hour  or  railroad  travel,  or  for  those  seasons  when  you  wanl 
to  be  pleased  without  effort," — Qleveland  Leader. 

"  We  like  Bell  Smith  and  Bell  Smith's  book.  A  lively,  free,  dashing  style,  she  talki 
on,  and  nothing  is  wanting  but  the  merry  laugh  we  know  she  is  owner  of  to  make  Uf 
think  we  are  listening  to  a  very  interesting  woman." — Chicago  JburTtal. 

"  Lively,  gossiping,  chatting,  witty,  sparkling  Bell  Smith,  we  must  confess  four  book 
bas  quite  enchanted  us." — 2f.  Y.  Day  Book. 

*♦  In  freshness,  piquancy,  and  delightful  episodes,  illastratiye  of  foreign  life  snd  mas* 
ners,  they  have  rarely  been  equalled."— .S^"<iomiZ  Era. 


J.  c.  derby's  publications. 


''IT  IS  A  LOY£  TALE  OF  THE  MOST  ENTEANCING  KIND." 

Boston  Daily  Traveller. 

•WHO  IS  THE  AUTHOE?    WE  GTTESS  A  LADY."-i^.  Y.  Li/e  lUu^ratad. 


ISORA'S      CHILD 

1  large  12mo.  volume.    Price  $1  25. 


"It  !s  one  of  those  few  books  of  its  class  that  we  have  read  quite  through— for  we  found 
it  to  have  the  requisites  of  a  good  booli,  namely,  the  power  of  entertaining  the  reader  to 
the  end  of  the  volume.  The  story  is  not  complex,  but  is  naturally  told;  the  characters 
are  drawn  with  sharp  delineation  and  the  dialogue  is  spirited.  It  is  something  to  add,  in 
khe  present  deluge  of  bad  boolcs  with  pleasant  names,  both  the  morals  and  '  ihe  moral '  of 
Uie  worR  are  unexceptionable.  It  is  understood  to  be  the  production  of  a  lady  whose 
name  is  not  unliuown  to  the  reading  public;  and  we  congratulate  her  on  tliejncrease  ot 
reputation  wliich  '  Isora's  Child  '  will  bring  her  when  her  present  incognito  shall  be 
removed." — Barlington  (Vt.)  Sentinel. 

"This  book  starts  off  with  its  chapter  first,  and  introduces  the  reader  at  once  to  the 
heroes  and  incidents  of  the  really  charming  story.  He  will  speedily  find  himself  interested 
AS  well  by  the  graceful  style  and  the  skill  with  which  the  different  scenes  are  arranged, 
as  by  the  beauty  of  the  two  principal  characters,  and  the  lessons  of  loving  faith,  hope,  and 
patience,  which  will  meet  him  at  the  turning  of  almost  every  leaf.  This  is  one  of  the  beat 
productions  of  its  kind  that  has  been  issued  this  season,  and  promises  to  meet  With 
warm  approval  and  abundant  success." — Detroit  Daily  Democrat. 

"  Another  anonymous  novel,  and  a  successful  one.  There  is  more  boldness  and  origi- 
nality both  in  its  conception  and  in  its  execution  than  in  almost  any  work  of  fiction  we 
^ave  lately  read.  Its  characters  are  few,  well  delineated,  and  consistently  managed. 
<here  is  no  crowding  and  consequent  confusion  among  the  dramatia  personam.  Tiiere 
•re  two  heroines,  however.  Flora  and  Cora,  both  bewitching  creatures,  and,  what  if 
jetter,  noble,  true-hearted  women,  especially  the  former,  Isora's  child — the  dark-eyed  and 
,>a88ionate,  but  sensitive,  tender,  and  loving  daughter  of  Italy.  The  work  will  make  it» 
nark.  VVho  is  the  author?  We  guess  a  lady,  and  that  this  is  her  first  book." —  Weekly 
Life  Illustrated. 

"Its  incidents  are  novel  and  effectively  managed ;  and  its  style  possesses  both  earnest 
vigor  and  depth  of  pathos,  relieved  by  occasional  flashes  of  a  pleasmg  and  genial  humor. 
Among  the  crowd  of  trashy  publications  now  issued  from  the  press,  a  work  as  true  to 
Qature,  and  as  elevated  and  just  in  its  conceptions  of  the  pu/poses  of  life,  as  this  is,  is  all 
the  more  welcome  because  it  is  so  rare.  We  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  as  popular  as  it  ii 
interesting." — Albany  Evening  Journal. 

"  We  have  seldom  perused  a  work  of  fiction  that  gave  us  more  real  pleasure  than 
this.  From  first  to  last  page,  it  enchains  the  attention,  and  carries  your  sympathiea 
along  with  the  fortunes  of  the  heroine.  The  descriptive  powers  of  the  unknown  authorew 
are  of  the  loftiest  order,  and  cannot  fail  of  placing  her  in  the  first  ranks  of  authorship.*! 
^Cincinnati  Daily  Sun. 

•'  A  story  which  perpetually  keeps  curiosity  on  the  alert,  and  as  perpetually  baffles  ii 
•ill  it  reaches  its  d^no&ment,  is  certainly  a  good  one."^£Mfalo  Commwoial  Advertiser, 


3     C.    DERBT^S   PUBLICATIONS. 


THK   OREEN    MOUNTAIN    TRAVELLERS' 

ENTERTAINMENT. 

BY  JOB  J  AH  BARNES,    SJCIf. 

12mo.    $1. 

••They  will  be  read  with  earnest  sympathy  and  heartfelt  approval  by  all  who  enjojl 
fniet  pictures  of  the  homely,  yet  often  charming  scenes  of  daily  life.  The  style  well 
befits  the  thoughts  expressed,  and  is  equally  simple  and  'mpressive.  We  have  found  in 
these  pages  better  than  a  '  traveller's  entertainment  '—one  whidi  will  mingle  with  the 
pleasant  recollections  of  a  home  fireside." — Providenoe  Daily  Post. 

"  If  any  of  our  friends  wish  to  get  hold  of  a  book  written  in  a  style  of  pure  and  beaa* 
tiful  English,  that  reminds  one  of  Irving  continually  ;  a  book  rich  with  inventions  of  the 
marvellous,  and  yet  abounding  in  sweet  humanities  and  delicate  philosophies — a  book 
that  will  not  tire  and  cannot  offend,  let  them  go  to  a  bookstore  and  buy  '  The  Old  Inn ; 
or,  the  Travellers'  Entertainment,'  by  Josiah  Barnes,  Sen.  It  will  pay  the  leader  well." 
—Springfield  {Mass.)  Eepuhliean. 

"It  should  be  praise  enough  to  say  that  tne  author  reminds  one  occasionally  oi 
iTflngy— Philadelphia  BuUetin. 

♦•  Unless  we  err  greatly,  a  volume  so  markedly  original  in  its  outline  and  features  will 
attract  a  large  share  of  attention." — Boston  Evening  Gazette. 

"  This  is  a  very  pleasant  book.  The  plan  of  it,  if  not  new,  is  just  as  well  carried  out 
five  'r  six  'r  half-a-dozen  » travellers  meet  at  an  indifferent  tavern  in  an  indifferent 
part  of  Vermont,  upon  a  seriously  unpleasant  day,  and  to  pass  away  the  dull  hours,  they 
fall  to  story-telling.  The  record  of  their  performances  in  that  behalf  is  made  up  into  tha 
Tolume  '  above  entitled.'  So  agreeable  became  the  diversion  that  not  only  the  evening 
of  the  first  day,  but  as  the  following  morning  was  conveniently  stormy,  the  second  day 
li  consunied  in  similar  diversions.  Those  who  read  the  book  will  agree  with  us,  tuat  a 
itormy  .-lay  and  a  country  inn,  with  such  alleviation,  presents  no  very  great  hardship  to 
ihe  traveller,  unless  his  business  is  particularly  urgent.  We  commend  the  book  to  those 
<ho  like  a  i^casant  story,  pleasantly  told." — Bttdget,  Troy,  If.  T. 

••  Under  the  above  title  we  have  several  interesting  stories  as  told  by  the  rarloas  eha* 

meters  at  tne  fireside  of  a  comfortable,  old-fashioned  inn,  to  while  away  the  long  houn 

^  Btorm,  by  which  they  were  detained     The  Little  Dry  Man's,  the  supposed  Lawyer's, 

juid  the  Quaker's  stories  are  all  worth  listening  to.    They  are  well  told  and  entertain  the 

rcAder." — Bangor  Journal. 

♦•  This  is  a  series  of  stories,  supposed  to  be  related  to  while  away  the  time,  in  an  old 
inn,  where  a  party  of  travellers  are  storm-stayed,  consisting  of  the  '  Little  Dry  Man's 
Story,' the  'Supposed  Lawyer's  Story,'  'Incidents  of  a  Day  at  the  Inn,'  the  'Quaker's 
Story,'  and  '  Ellen's  Grave.'  The  stories  are  well  told.  There  is  a  charming  simplicity 
in  the  author's  style — all  the  more  delightful,  because,  now-a-days,  simplicity  of  lan- 
guage is  a  rarity  with  authors.  It  is  a  book  to  take  up  at  any  moment,  and  occupy  » 
leisure  hour — to  lay  aside,  and  take  «p  again  and  again.  We  commend  its  tone,  an4 
the  object  of  the  author.  It  is  a  pleasant  companion  en  a  country  journey." — If.  "M 
Ditpatah. 


J.    C.    nKRBY  S    PTTBIJCATIONS. 


THE    LIFE    AND    SAYINQS    OF    MRS. 
PARTINOTON, 

i.ND    OTHERS    OF    THE    FAMILY. 
?  BTB.  P.  SEILLABEB. 

1  elegant  12mo.,  43  Illusirations.    Price  $1  25. 

***Hang  the  books  I'  said  an  appreciative  examiner,  to  whom  we  handed  a  eopy  foi 
httpection, '  I  can't  afford  to  buy  them,  bat  I  can't  do  without  this ;'  and  laughirg  anth 
the  tears  ran,  he  drew  forth  the  purchase-money.  It  is  just  so,  reader ;  you  can't  do 
trithout  this  book.  It  is  so  full  of  genial  humor  and  pure  human  nature  that  your  wife 
and  children  must  have  it,  to  be  able  to  realize  how  much  enjoyment  may  be  shut  up 
within  the  lids  of  a  book.  It  is  full  of  human  kindness,  rich  in  humor,  alive  with  wit, 
mingled  here  and  there  with  those  faint  touches  of  melancholy  which  oft-times  touclk 
Mirth's  borders."— (7M»ton  Courant. 

"  She  has  caused  many  a  lip  to  relax  from  incontinent  primness  into  the  broadest  kind 
of  a  grin — has  given  to  many  a  mind  the  material  for  an  odd  but  not  useless  revery — hai 
gcooped  out  many  a  cove  on  the  dry  shores  of  newspaper  reading,  and  invited  the  marine* 
Teader  to  tarry  and  refresh  himself.  *  Ruth  Partington '  is  a  Christian  and  a  patriot 
Such  a  book  will  go  everywhere — ^be  welcomed  like  a  returned  exile — do  good,  and  ceas* 
uoV^—Bvffalo  Expreaa. 

*•  If  it  is  true  that  one  grows  fat  who  laughs,  then  he  who  reads  this  book  will  fat  tq> 
even  though  he  may  be  one  of  Pharaoh's  '  lean  lune.'  That  it  does  one  good  to  laugh, 
Dobody  doubts.  We  have  shook  and  shook  while  running  through  this  charming  volume, 
until  it  has  seemed  as  though  we  had  increased  in  weight  some  fifty  gounds,  more  or 
less."-  'Massachxnetta  Life  Boat. 

*'  A  reg*.ilar  Yankee  institution  is  Mrs.  Partington,  and  well  deserves  the  compliment  of 
a  book  devoted  to  her  sayings  and  doings.  She  is  here  brought  before  the  public,  whicl: 
Is  so  greatly  indebted  to  her  unique  vocabulary  for  exhaustless  stores  of  fun,  in  a  stylo 
worthy  of  her  distinguished  character." — If.  T.  Tribune. 

*'  There  is  a  world  of  goodness  in  her  blessed  heart,  as  there  is  a  universe  of  quiet  fun 
A  the  book  be.  e  us.  *  A  gem  of  purest  ray  serene '  glitters  on  almost  every  page. 
Everybody  shorn  buy  the  book ;  everybody,  at  least,  who  loves  genial,  quiet  wit,  whiCK 
never  wounds,  but  always  heals  where  it  airi^ti."— Independent  Democrat. 

"  It  is  crammed  full  of  her  choicest  sayings,  and  rings  from  title  page  to '  finis  *  with  het 
unconscious  wit.  It  is  just  the  book  for  one  to  read  at  odd  moments — to  take  on  the  can 
or  home  of  an  evening— or  to  devour  In  one's  office  of  a  rainy  day.  It  is  an  excellent 
antidote  for  the  blues."— 0»«*<ia  Herald. 

*•  Housewivoa  who  occasionally  get  belated  alwut  their  dinner,  should  have  it  lying 
round.  It  will  prevent  a  deal  of  grumbling  from  their  •  lords,'  by  keeping  them  so  w^S 
•mployed  as  to  make  them  forget  their  dinner."— .y<?M>  Hampshire  TOegraph. 

•*  Her '  sayings  *  have  gone  the  world  over,  and  given  her  an  immortality  that  will  gllttor 
and  sparkle  among  the  records  of  genius  wherever  wit  and  humor  shall  be  aporeciated.** 
•~W<no4ti«r  PaUadium.  7 


J     C.    DERBY'S    PUBLICATIONS. 


JACK   DOWNING'S   NEW   BOOK! 


•WAY      DOWN      EAST; 

OB,   PORTRAITUEES   OF  TAXKEE   LIFE. 

BY  8EBA  SMITH,  ESQ. 

Illustrated,  12mo.    Price  $1. 

**  We  greet  the  Major,  after  a  long  interval,  with  profound  pleasure  and  respect.  Wei 
4«  we  remember  how,  years  ago,  we  used  to  pore  over  liis  lucubrations  on  the  events  of 
the  time — how  he  enlightened  us  by  his  home-views  of  the  Legislature's  doings,  of  the 
Gineral's  intentions,  and  of  the  plans  of  ambitious  Uncle  Joshua.  Here  was  the  '  spot  of 
his  origin,'  and  around  us  were  the  materials  from  which  he  drew  his  stores  of  instructive 
wit.  Therefore  we,  of  all  the  reading  public,  do  the  most  heartily  greet  his  reappearance. 
We  find  him  a  little  more  artistic  than  of  old,  more  advanced  in  grammar  and  orthography 
but  withal  displaying  the  same  intimate  knowledge  of  Down  Eastdom,  and  retaining  the 
same  knack  of  genuine  Yankee  humor.  In  fact,  taking  all  things  together,  no  other 
writer  begins  to  equal  him  in  the  delineation  of  the  live  Yankee,  in  the  points  where  thai 
Individual  differs  from  all  the  '  rest  of  mankind.'  This  is  his  great  merit  as  an  author, 
and  one  which  the  progress  of  manners  will  still  further  heighten — for  it  is  only  in  some 
portions  of  our  own  State  that  the  real  Yankee  can  now  be  found. 

"  The  present  book  has  sixteen  chapters  devoted  to  home-stories.  They  are  racy  and 
humorous  to  a  high  degree."— Por«<Mid  Daily  Ad/verUeer. 

"  It  is  now  generally  conceded  that  Seba  Smith  is  the  ablest,  and  at  the  same  time  th« 
most  amusing  delineator  of  Yankee  life  who  has  hitherto  attempted  that  humorous  stylo 
of  writing — not  excepting  even  Judge  Haliburton  himself.  This  is  no  rash  expression,  for 
there  is  not  a  passage  in  ♦  Sam  Slick '  so  graphic,  funny  and  and  comical,  but  we  find 
equalled  if  not  surpassed  in  the  sensible  and  philosophic,  although  ludicrous  epistles,  of 
'  Major  Jack  Downing ' — epistles  of  which  we  defy  the  most  stupid  to  glance  at  a  para- 
graph  without  reading  the  whole."— Philadelphia  N&uoa. 

"  This  is  a  book  of  real  Yankee  life,  giving  the  particulars  of  character  and  inJ  .Isdents  in 
New  England,  from  the  Pilgrim  fathers  and  their  generations,  Connecticut  Blue  Laws,  and 
the  civic  and  religious  rules,  customs,  Ac,  from  the  Nutmeg  State  away  down  East,  as  far 
as  Mr.  Jones  ever  thought  of  going.  It  is  a  very  laughable  affair,  and  every  family  in  all 
Yankeedom  wih  enjoy  its  ■pern&a.V^—Hingham,  (Mass.)  Jotimal. 

"  Thers  are  few  readers  who  do  not  desire  to  keep  up  an  acquaintance  with  the  original 
Major  Jack  Downing,  whose  peculiar  humor,  while  it  is  irresistible  in  its  effects,  is  nevei 
made  subservient  to  immorality.  But  these  stories  are  an  improvement  on  those  originalljp 
given  by  the  author,  as  they  are  illustrative  of  Yankee  life  and  character  in  the  good  ob^ 
times  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers." — Christian  Advocate  and  Journal. 

"  The  stones  are  the  most  humorous  in  the  whole  range  of  Yankee  literature,  full  of 
genuine  wit,  rare  appreciation  of  fun,  and  giving  an  insight  into  human  motive  which 
■hows  the  close  observation  and  keen  relish  of  life,  of  a  good-humored  philonopher."— 
Satwday  Evening  Mail. 

**  A  charmingly  interesting  book,  this,  for  all  who  hail  from  Down  East,  or  vbo  !ik«  to 
read  good  storiea  of  home  life  among  the  Tankees."— iSc(J«m  £tegia«f 


-^M^mm;. 


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